The demons inside us
by KissOfShadows13
Summary: Two haunted souls: a victim and a fighter; darkness and light. They complete each other but can they reach a middle ground? And, most importantly, can they find love? A story about pushing limits and its consequences. APOV. Rated M for dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, I know I should be writing the 35th chapter of Entwined. I am! I swear! It's just that this story won't leave me alone so I kinda had to put it out here and continue writing chapter 35. You guys don't mind, right? _R__ight?_ :D**

**So, I know I'm not the only one who read the books while they were in fanfic stage, _Master of the Universe._ I also know I'm not the only one who wished for more when the books were published. And don't get me started on the movie!**

**So, peeps, here you have it! My own distorted, dark and gloomy - and sometimes funny (I hope) - version of _Fifty shades of Grey._**

**Hope you like it!**

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Ch. 1

One would think that living in Western France for ten years would make the rain at least tolerable. One would also think that another four years of living in London would convince me that I might as well get used to the damp and chilly climate. Alas, every cell in my body is programmed to hate this kind of weather and I've long given up the hope that I could train it differently.

I'm currently in the process of staring at my wardrobe, waiting for the outfit that I'm supposed to wear today to magically appear before me. It's not happening, though, and I'm sort of in a hurry so I huff and puff and start rummaging through the drawers, hangers and rows upon rows of clothing that are at my disposal. I select a few items and stare at them for a few more minutes. It's not even remotely close to the dress code I should be wearing for this _interview_!

_Crap! Where's Elizabeth when I need her?_ I think sourly as I eye the clothes I've put on the bed. She would have dressed me up like a Barbie and I wouldn't have uttered a peep. But Elizabeth is not here so I put on my big girl pants, grab the outfit I chose as if it would give me the hives and start getting dressed.

To be honest, it's not the wrong outfit that scares me. I've never really cared about clothes or what people thought of me when I wore them. I've dealt with my fair share of fake and selfish people throughout my 22 years of existence and I've learned that you simply cannot please everyone so you might as well please yourself first. Anyone else is an added bonus. That's what I'm doing right now: pleasing other people. Namely, _Kate._

What really scares me is the idea that I'm going to be interviewing a man, alone, in his office. A normal, sane, human being would just _go with the flow_ and might actually be excited about the prospect of chatting with a self made billionaire. It's not everyday that one gets up close and personal with these kind of people. I should feel lucky that Kate's got the flu and I'm doing this fancy interview for her. But I'm not feeling lucky. As a matter of fact, I don't think I've felt this unlucky in a very long time.

Okay, maybe I'm being a tad over dramatic... I've had worse than this and I'm the one who volunteered when I saw how horrible she looked this morning and _who_ could ever resist those puppy dog eyes? No one with a heart could say no to Kate when she put on that face and this morning, she put it on with a purpose. _Double trouble!_

I look at my reflection in the mirror and scowl. A smile would do wonders for my general appearance but I'm too wired up to smile. It would only come out as a grimace. My hair just won't behave today, no matter what I try to do with it. I sigh and start working on a small chignon at the base of my neck. Elegant and inconspicuous... with a few escaped tendrils and a messy fringe. _When in doubt, hide it in a chignon. _That's what Elizabeth always says and that's precisely what I'm doing. Fingers crossed that I'll pull it off!

Once I have my hair under control, I take a look at my outfit. I've chosen a pair of black skinny jeans, a blue button down shirt almost the same color as my eyes and a pair of black leather riding boots. With automatic movements, I adjust the black leather cuffs that cover both of my wrists and shrug on a black woolen coat that has a small tail on the back, effectively covering my behind.

I look at the girl in the mirror and start analyzing her. The make-up I've put on is minimal but nice. I'm too pale but that's nothing unusual in a gloomy place such as this one. My eyes are too big for my face and they sometimes show too much emotion... like right now. One could easily see how freaked out I am by the prospect of this meeting. But backing out of this is not an option. Kate has been talking non-stop about this interview and God help me if she doesn't get it.

See, I wouldn't be in this position if Kate hadn't chosen to succumb to the flu today of all days. I use the word _chosen_ because if there's anything I'm sure about when it comes down to this girl is that nothing, and I mean _nothing,_ happens to Kate Kavanagh without her permission, illness included. So, due to her sudden illness, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do with some mega-industrialist-tycoon I've yet to hear of, for the student newspaper.

_Enter Anastasia Rose Steele!_

Yes, I have volunteered. Out of sheer pity, mind your. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish and a phobia for being left alone in a room with an unknown man. In spite of this long list, today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious – _much_ more precious than mine – but he has granted Kate an interview. A real coup, she tells me. I call it a waste of time – a waste of _my_ time – but who cares about my time when my name isn't linked with Stephen Clayton's? _No one._

I find Kate huddled on the couch in her living room. She looks good for a sick person but, then again, she always looks good.

"Ana, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please!" Kate begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny.

I have half of mind to make her go to this interview. _Anastasia! That would be rude!_ My subconscious snaps at me and I glare back at her. It was only a thought... sheesh! I bite my tongue and smile politely at my friend.

"Of course I'll go, Kate. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?" I ask instead, trying to get back from the selfish thoughts that took over me.

"Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and my mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I'll transcribe it all." She hands me the piece of paper with the questions along with the ancient device she calls 'recorder'. Doesn't she use an app to record things? It's the twenty-first century, people!

I give her a funny look.

"I don't know how to use that ancient object, Kate. It looks fragile... I'll break it! But I have my phone with me and, trust me, it's more than enough. And speaking of phone, I'll try and Google the man before meeting him. I don't want to make a complete fool out of myself. You should have given me at least some basic information about him, Kate." I mildly scold her even though I know that in the state that she's in, the last thing she worries about is the impression I'm going to make on Christian Trevelyan-Grey. _Not like you __really care either__, _my subconscious taunts me with her sickly sweet voice. And she's right. The times when I gave a crap what people thought of me are long gone.

Kate's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"The questions will see you through. Go. It's a long drive. I don't want you to be late."

I throw my hands up, palms facing her, and laugh. Even when she's sick she's bossy.

"Okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later." I stare at her fondly. _Only for you__, Kate, would I do this._

"I will. Good luck. And thanks Ana – as usual, you're my lifesaver."

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Kate talk me into this. But then Kate can talk anyone into anything. She'll make an exceptional journalist. She's articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, and beautiful – and she's my dearest, dearest friend._ Because you've left Sam in London! _My subconscious sneers at me as if it wants to make sure I wouldn't be able to block it. _Mission achieved!_ I think bitterly as I try to steer my mind away from errant thoughts. Thinking about the people I've left behind in my old life is definitely _not_ doing wonders for my mood.

But there's another reason why I'm doing this: I care way too much about Kate to leave her stranded like this, especially when she's this excited about a damn interview. The last thing we both need is for her to cry about a lost interview. _To waste a few hours getting to this interview or to waste a few days listening to Kate whining about her lost chance? _It's a no-brainer, really.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA towards Portland and the I-5. It's early and I don't have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. I floor the pedal and hum to the soft notes of the song that's currently playing. My Audi R8 is a joy to drive and I wish the weather was nice enough to drive with the top off and enjoy the air blowing around me. It always gives me a sense of freedom.

As soon as I hit the highway, I look for articles about Christian Grey and put them on the LCD that stands proud as a peacock in the middle of the dashboard. The app begins to read various articles about Mr. Grey going as far as to the articles concerning his adoption by Dr. Grace Trevelyan – Grey and her husband, the highly esteemed attorney, Carrick Grey. As I continue to listen to the information pouring through my speakers, I find out that Christian Trevelyan-Grey is a billionaire and has no official girlfriend. _Ah, the perpetual bachelor. Got to love his type!_ However, there are no photos of him with a date. The only two women who ever had the pleasure of being photographed with him are his mother and younger sister, Mia Grey. _Does he keep them locked up in a dungeon?_ My erratic thought brings shivers down my spine. _Now is not the time to be thinking about that, Anastasia! _My subconscious chides me. Duly noted!

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby. You can almost feel the chill of this building in your bones. I suppress a shiver.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. _And, trust me, I've seen my fair share of suits and skirts and dresses. _She looks immaculate while I look as if I'm going to attend an equity class. _Great!_

"I'm here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Steele for Katherine Kavanagh." I say with a smile and try my best to keep my nerves under control.

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Steele." She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I may not be as immaculate as her but driving in an uncomfortable suit is definitely not on my bucket list. _Sorry, madam. I'm not going to start making excuses for my lack of proper clothing… though my mother would probably agree with you._ I think bitterly as I look around and try to get my mind away from thoughts concerning my _dear_ mother.

"Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Steele. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all.

Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits. _I bet they even sleep in those suits!_

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open and I'm in another large lobby – again all glass, steel and white sandstone. I'm confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me. _Is this really happening? _I'm one step away from pinching myself. This is strangely similar to a deja-vu.

"Miss Steele, could you wait here, please?" The blonde points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

I smile politely and take a seat. Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning vista and I'm momentarily paralyzed by the view. _Wow__!_

I fish the questions from my satchel and go through them. They're all boring, nothing interesting except for the last one. _Oh, Kate, this is so you_. I have to give it to her, she's as tenacious as they get. She wanted to get a rise out of him, at least at the end of the interview. As a little pay-back for all the begging she had to do to land this interview, no doubt. _Are you gay?_ Now that's what I call throwing in the goblet. But that's her battle, not mine. I mentally cross the question off the list with a smirk. _Sorry, Kate.__  
_

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? _It's like Stepford here_. Taking a deep breath, I stand up. Someone should have asked me something up until now. This waiting game is not good, considering how worked up I already am.

"Miss Steele?" the latest blonde asks.

"Yes," I croak, and clear my throat awkwardly. "Yes." _There, that sounds more confident_. I don't sound like a scared little girl even though I am.

"Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your coat?"

"Please." I reply with a bit more confidence and shrug the coat off. My impassive mask is on. Now is not the time to second guess myself.

"Have you been offered any refreshment?"

"Um – no." I say with a neutral expression even though I know Blonde Number One should have offered refreshments.

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" She asks, turning her attention back to me.

"A glass of water would be nice, thank you." I murmur.

"Olivia, please fetch Miss Steele a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

"My apologies, Miss Steele. Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes."

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

"Here you go, Miss Steele."

"Thank you."

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Grey insists on all his employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if that's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African-American man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes._ Meh…_

He turns and says through the door. "Golf, this week, Grey."

I don't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat.

"Good afternoon ladies," he says. His dark eyes lose their spark for a fraction of a second as if he has recognized me and is trying to put a name to my face. I look away and focus my attention on the stormy clouds that cover the Seattle sky. _Don't be silly, Anastasia. Your past is on a different continent. There's nothing to fear here._ My subconscious's voice, however, does nothing to my nerves. The Internet is a place where everyone has access. All it takes is just one _click_. I hope to God Stephen made everything go away!

"Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Steele. Do go through." Blonde Number Two, Andrea, says.

I stand, abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

"You don't need to knock – just go in." She smiles kindly.

I try to smile back at her but I think I've failed and push open the door to escape. I am met with the vision that is Christian Trevelyan - Grey and it only takes me a fraction of a second to detect something lurking behind his calm façade. The feeling sets me on edge immediately.

"Miss Kavanagh." He extends a long-fingered hand to me. "I'm Christian Grey. Would you like to sit?"

Christian Trevelyan-Grey is tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice. The way he looks at me reminds me of Paul. I stop that line of thinking as soon as I say his name. _Stop thinking about him, Anastasia! Get a bloody grip!_

In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. _Must be static. _I shrug the feeling off and offer what I hope is a confident smile. His eyes glaze over. _What the…?_

"Actually, Ms. Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey."

"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite. _See? You're safe._ Am I? I feel like I'm a rabbit facing the fox. I bite back a loud gulp and smile timidly.

"Anastasia Steele. I'm studying English Literature with Miss Kavanagh at Washington State." I introduce myself with a confident undertone to my voice as I straighten my back, an automatism engraved in my brain form a young age.

"I see," he says simply. "Would you like to sit?" He waves me towards a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white - ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

"A local artist. Trouton," says Grey when he catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss Steele." He replies, his voice soft.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite of me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts and retrieve Kate's questions from my satchel. Next, I set up my phone to record the interview and check twice to make sure it's working before setting it on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope. When I look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile. _What's so funny?_

"Did Kate, I mean, Miss Kavanagh, explain what the interview was for?" I ask, hoping to get his attention once again.

"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."

Oh! This is news to me and I'm temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me – okay, six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand. _Must keep it professional or Kate is going to have my bloody head on a platter!_

I make my way through Kate's questions, adding some of my own to get a better feel on his general attitude and personality but each time it's like I'm facing a wall that's impossible to climb. I find myself mildly disappointed by his cocky attitude though I can't explain why. This man is nothing to me and the only reason I'm here is to help Kate. My opinions don't matter. _It's not like you _want _them to matter, Anastasia._ My subconscious points out as she takes a sip of her tea and resumes her reading. She is right.

I listen to him brag and preen like a peacock, quoting Harvey Firestone and Carnegie, talking about people as if he gives a shit about them. He doesn't. That much I can tell from his voice and posture. He is the master here and brings everyone to heel just because he can. _And why should he act any different?_ My subconscious retorts with a frown. I find myself pondering that very same question. Why _did_ I expect him to be different? He's the textbook definition of the ultimate consumer and the ultimate control freak and yet, there's something just lurking beneath the surface. I get the feeling he's talking more about himself than he lets on.

I can't help but think back to all the grooming Stephen made sure Paul had so that, one day, he could take over the Clayton Empire. I used to think Paul was so lucky for being Stephen's heir and having him watch over him. Under his father's guidance, Paul would have turned out to be the unofficial prince of the United Kingdom. _And look how that turned out, Anastasia? Expectations aren't always met. You should know that better than anyone._

The more he talks, the more he sounds like a control freak that would fall to his knees without it. _Typical._ And I'm _bored._ Bored by the intricate façade that he is wearing, by the controlled tone of his voice, by his need to control everything – the interview and myself included. I try to slip through the cracks and get some genuine emotions but each attempt brings nothing but failure. Not even when I ask him about his adoption does his mask falter. I drop the subject without any further attempts. After all, family is also a sore subject for me. _Wouldn't want to awake the demons lurking in the dark corners, Anastasia…_

"Well, that sounds utterly boring." I voice my thoughts before I can put a stop to my verbal vomit. _Too late to back out now._

"I beg your pardon?" His stormy gray eyes snap back at me with an icy glare. I hold his stare and tilt my head as I'm trying to decipher the thoughts present behind those captivating orbs. It's the first genuine emotion he's showing ever since I've sat on the sofa. _Consider me intrigued, Mr. Grey. Why do you care what I think?_ Is he really that blind to think that if someone agrees verbally with him, they also agree _mentally_? He doesn't strike me as a naïve CEO but, then again, what _do_ I know about him? _Nothing._

"That sounds utterly boring." I repeat myself with a normal, unaffected voice when, in reality, his stare almost has me covering back in fear. However, I keep in mind everything I went through, once upon a time – and the fact that we are in an office with people standing just outside the door – and it makes me bold. I look back at him blankly. He can't hurt me, even though his glare tells me he would like to.

His gray eyes analyze me, probably waiting for a reaction he is never going to get. I am not a scared little mouse, watching the big bad cat as it mentally goes over its strategy to eat me. I am here as a favor and I will get Kate something more interesting than the answers to the dull questions she wrote down for me. _And test my limits in the process._

"Why do you say that, Miss Steele?"

"Because that's my opinion." I reply dryly.

"And why do you have this opinion?" Grey presses on.

"Because it seems to me like you're taking the easy way out, Mr. Grey."

"The easy way out?"

I narrow my eyes. _Surely he knows._

"Yes, the easy way out. Out of a million possibilities, you chose the one that requires the minimum amount of emotions and attachment and get in return the maximum amount of gratification. Don't get me wrong, on an economical level, it's perfection: you get the maximum amount of benefits out of a minimum amount of resources. But life isn't economics and emotions are endless supply of 'raw material', if you wish to call it that. Because of this tiny detail, life is messy, unpredictable and even scary, sometimes. That's exactly the part you're missing out on. And it's quite an interesting part, let me assure you." I say with a small smile. "You are an expert in mergers, are you not, Mr. Grey?" I ask and tilt my head to the side, examining him once again. There's something in that stare that makes me want to keep an eye on him and always have him in my visual field.

His eyes flash. _Yes, Mr. Grey, I've done a bit of homework. To keep you on your toes._

"That's what I've been lead to believe, yes."

Of course he has. I'm willing to bet there's always a waiting line for people to kiss his ass on a daily basis.

"Okay. So, in order for you to be the best in this field, you have to be able to read people and situations like the back of your hand while, at the same time, you have to take all known and unknown factors into consideration. As you've already pointed out, you have to know what makes people tick and businesses collapse and play those weaknesses in your favor. That way, you know what to expect and how to react accordingly. Am I right so far, Mr. Grey?"

"Spot on, Miss Steele."

"So tell me this, Mr. Grey: do you always pick the easiest merger or the hardest?"

"The hardest." He answers a fraction of a second later.

_Hook, line and sinker!_

"Why?" I ask even though I know he's already in the mindset I wanted him to be.

"Because I like the challenge; the thrill of the chase. I like to be challenged and to win." He replies with a shrug.

"So it's not about the money." I press on.

"No, it's not about the money." He confirms with a short shake of his head.

"Then what is it about, Mr. Grey?" I ask even though I already know. _Control._

"Power. Control. Respect. Status."

"In other words, things money can't buy."

"For the most part, yes." He confirms once again.

"So, basically, you could sum it all up to being the master of your Universe. The people that surround you bow down to you and cater to your every whim. You're the king and no one dares to contradict you, no matter how they might feel in a certain situation. Case in point, you don't have a board to answer to."

"I suppose you could say that."

The look in his eyes tells me I've made him curious. I bite back a smile and continue.

"And yet, for a man who craves the challenge, the thrill of the chase, all you do is try to eliminate that. You don't find that boring? You're eliminating the exact variable that makes the game interesting."

The silence is deafening. The whole room seems charged and ready to explode while Christian gray keeps silent. I decide to push him a little further out of his comfort zone and see what he's made of.

"Let me put it this way: if you could read people's thoughts, no exception whatsoever, would that please you?"

His pupils dilate as he hears my words, almost to the point of blocking out the gray or his irises. _Is he _aroused_? What the…?_

"Yes, I believe it would."

I snap out of my daze and continue my line of thinking. Or at least _try_ to continue it.

"And yet, after some time would pass, wouldn't you get annoyed and, ultimately, bored with your ability? There's only so much our thoughts can vary, in spite of each individual being unique and unpredictable. We all have the same basic needs that we end up revolving around in our attempt to satisfy them. There's only so much one can continue to impress after you've heard all their thoughts and seen all the experiences that made them the people they are at the moment. What would you do then? What would you do when everyone around you becomes just another shade of gray?"

He keeps quiet, pondering my words, and makes no move to answer my question. Granted, it was a rhetorical one since I suspect he never asked himself these kinds of questions but I would have enjoyed a response, a glimpse inside his head. _His silence is his wall of defense._

"I'll tell you what you would do, Mr. Grey. You would do exactly what the other seven billion people on this planet would do: you would look for _color_. There might be a chance for you to find what you're looking for not just once, but several times. And you will turn it to gray each and every time as you try to deconstruct and analyze each pigment that forms the final color. You will destroy things, time and time again, in your attempt to _control_ them.

"But that's a necessary step, believe it or not. Because that's the only way you could learn that perfection is _boring_. Perfection takes away the beauty of the flaw that makes us who we are, that part of us that we need to learn to build around. It's the way that we react and learn to live with said flaw that makes us who we are, so different from the person next to us. Because, at the end of the day, we all have the same flaws – whether we want to admit it or not.

"Controlling something, _someone_, takes away the spontaneity, the color_._ We all have to learn that relinquishing control is not a bad thing. Or at least, that's what they say." I finish my speech with a small smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes. It is the practiced smile that I flaunt around to appease people, my step-father included.

I stand back in my seat and watch Christian Trevelyan – Grey as a myriad of emotions flash behind his eyes. For someone who seems so cold and detached, he seems to feel an awful lot. He is just better at keeping a poker face and shoving his emotions in a drawer that only he has the key to. The emotions he is displaying look foreign on this features, as if the muscles that cover his skull and jaw have never received the impulses that they are receiving at the moment. I've gotten under his skin and he needs to resume his delusion of holding all the control all the time. _Stephen would be proud._ Maybe I am fit to be a CEO. _Huh…_

"Are you happy, Mr. Grey?"

The question, like many others before it, is not on Kate's list but I can't help myself. I have to ask it. His face transforms right before my eyes, as if a bucket of ice cold water was suddenly dropped on his head.

"I think you have enough material for Miss Kavanagh's article, Miss Steele." He says with an arctic tone that would have chilled me to the bone if I didn't expect it.

But I was expecting that. We all raise our defensive walls when we feel under attack. We all jump on the defensive or jump at the other person's jugular. _Psychology 101._

"Of course, Mr. Grey. Do you want a copy of this interview? It can be done right now." I ask him with a calm and even voice.

"Miss Kavanagh can send it once she's finished writing the article."

"As you wish. Thank you for your time, Mr. Grey."

We shake hands and the same electric current which seemed to zip around me in the office sweeps through my body and wakes every cell. _That's odd__!_ I shrug it off and smile politely at Blonde Number Two as she retrieves my coat.

I can feel his eyes, burning a hole in the back of my neck as I put on my coat and proceed to walk to the elevator. I push the button summoning the elevator and wait for it to make an appearance. The doors open faster than I expected and I hurry in, desperate to escape. _Brave Anastasia has officially left the building_. When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.

"Anastasia," he says as a farewell.

_Oh, we're on a first name basis now?_

"Christian," I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

_Thank God for small favors!_

I slowly release the breath I've been holding ever since his hand last touched mine. My skin still tingles.

_What an odd man..._

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**The next update should be around next Wednesday... if you guys are liking this cocktail! Let me know ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, everyone!**

**Thank you for all the reviews, faves and follows! It really means a lot! I am so ecstatic that I've decided to publish the second chapter that was already uploaded here.**

**To reply to my Italian reader, a CPOV will appear at some point but as a different story. It will probably be like a collection with a similar name to this one. I'm thinking something in the lines of "The demons inside me". Does it sound good enough? :)**

**For my ****_Entwined_**** readers, I have bad news (sort of). Chapter 35 is finished but I'm having Internet issues and since it's 6:30 PM on a Friday night... I think Monday evening (my time) will be the soonest that I can publish it. **

**I'm posting this from a coffee shop as we speak, from my phone... so if it looks crappy, let me know and I'll update this chapter on Monday as well.**

**Enjoy!**

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Ch. 2

My skin _still_ tingles. I look at my hands and notice they're shaking. My heart is pounding in my chest and my head is seconds away from exploding. I. Am. A. Mess.

"Stupid! Stupid!" I keep muttering to myself as I try to get my adrenaline under control. I'm moments away from a panic attack and I'm the only person to blame for this. If only I'd kept my mouth shut, did the interview as I was initially supposed to and kept my filter on, I wouldn't be in this position. Simple as that. _But noooo... Anastasia Rose Steele had to show that she can be sassy and smart! _My subconscious snarls and with good reason.

I know I shouldn't push myself like this. Healing takes time, just like William, my therapist, keeps telling me. But, to be honest, I'm _tired_. I'm tired of fighting off memories and reactions and demons and sadness. I just want a break. Be a normal person. Is that really too much to ask?

The elevator arrives on the first floor and I step out as soon as the doors slide open. The heels of my riding boots seem to make more noise than they did when I entered this building. _It's just your imagination, Anastasia, _my subconscious tries to reassure me. I feel a few pairs of eyes trained on me and I square my shoulders and keep repeating to myself that I'm fine and that there is no one here that wants to hurt me. I'm just an unusual visitor that's not wearing an impeccable suit and isn't blonde. That is all there is to it. _It doesn't have anything to do with Grey's look?_ My subconscious asks but I ignore her, as per usual. One moment my inner voice is comforting, the next – she's against me. Typical Anastasia fashion!

I keep on telling myself that nothing is out of the ordinary as I reach the front desk where the immaculate blonde is chatting with the attractive African-American man with short dreads who was in Grey's office before my interview. They stop talking as soon as I'm within earshot and the man looks at me. It's different from the way people normally look at me. It's like he's trying to find something that's not there. I feel scrutinized. _Crap! He knows._

I look blankly back at them and make my way slowly towards the front office. All traces of the uncomfortable girl that came in just an hour ago are gone, like sand blown away by wind. In her wake is my daily mask that I put on when I'm in an uncomfortable situation. And right now is one of those times. _Deep breaths, Ana. Just a few more minutes and you're out of here._ My subconscious coaches me with a gentle voice and I listen and do as it says. Just a few more minutes and I will be free.

"Hello." I say with a calm voice that masks the storm of emotions raging inside me. What if he's familiar with the press back in the UK? What if he knows about the reasons why I left UK? _Crap!_

"Hello again, Miss Steele." The blonde greets me with a professional smile as I hand over my security pass.

Just as I'm about to turn left and start walking towards the exit, the man on my right speaks up, as though hearing my name has confirmed his suspicions.

"Hello. My name is Claude Bastille." He introduces himself with a smile and holds his hand for me to shake but I only stare back at him. Should I shake his hand and introduce myself? Should I smile politely and dash for the door? That would only make people think I'm rude and maybe even crazy. _Decisions, decisions..._

In a moment of boldness, I grab his hand in a firm handshake and smile politely. I have my game face on, ready to face the elements, whatever those may be.

"Hello." I reply with a cold tone to my voice and a blank stare. I offer nothing else. Inside, I'm praying to all the gods out there to keep me anonymous.

Claude Bastille regards me with a calculating look, tilting his head to the side. _Double crap!_

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Steele. Forgive me for staring but do you happen to have studied in France? In Lille, to be more precise."

To say one simple word like _France_ lifted a ton from my shoulders would be the understatement of the bloody century! I exhale the breath I have been holding and offer a more genuine smile.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Have we met before?" I inquire, genuinely curious about this man. I don't remember him but since the time I've spent in the boarding school in Lille wasn't exactly what one would call... quiet. Some memories tend to be hazy. _Because you were stoned out of your mind on a few occasions?_ My subconscious asks with her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. She looks oddly like my mother. I suppress another shiver.

"Yes. I had a friend there... Jacques. He was your ballet instructor, I believe."

_Oh!_

Memories of Jacques and interminable hours of practice for the school dance surface in a matter of moments. That man pushed me like no one else and the results were always on his side. He helped me more than he would ever know. I smile involuntarily as I think back to Jacques's bitchy attitude whenever I missed a step or didn't keep up with the tempo because I wasn't interested in what he wanted to teach me.

"Oh, yes! We remember Jacques. How is he these days?"

"He's thinking about relocating. Something about children these days not caring about arts and dance anymore." Bastille replies with a sparkle in his eyes.

I throw my head back and laugh, unable to contain the visual of Jacques moaning about focus and discipline. It was the same speech he gave me each time he saw my bloodshot eyes. Right before he sent me to take a shower and hurry back for a few hours of practice. He was merciless but it did me good. More good than I ever thought it would do.

"That's nice to hear. He was always so passionate about his work. It would be a shame not to take it to the next level." I say with a smile.

"True." He replies with a smile. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Miss Steele, Jacques's infamous student. I'll let him know we bumped into each other."

"Please, do send him my regards. And tell him my coordination and balance are perfect."

He looks at me funny but nods nonetheless. Only Jacques and I know the many hours we spent on making sure I will stop falling on my behind. My balance was horrible as a small child.

I come out of memory land and shake my head slightly. I really ought to pay more attention to my surroundings and not get lost like this in the middle of a busy lobby. As I turn around and head towards the door, I catch the eye of one of the security men. The man is tall, muscular and has an extreme buzz cut hairstyle. In a way, he reminds me of Ray, with his collected demeanor and impassive gaze. His hazel eyes seem to be following my movements and he seems to be speaking very fast in an earpiece.

Frowning, I turn my attention away from him and focus it on the rain that has started somewhere between the time I went in the building and now. Great! Bloody awesome! Did I forget to mention just how _much_ I hate the rain? And it's quite funny, really, since I live in the Evergreen State and it rains here as much as it used to rain in Lille and London. _London… _

The glass doors slide in front of me to allow me access onto the sidewalk outside Grey House. The constant buzz, both from people and cars, soothes my nerves. I try to focus my attention on something else other than the intense scrutinizing gaze of the security man. _You are safe, Anastasia. It was only your imagination. _My subconscious tries to soothe me but there is this feeling that I can't shake. Like I'm being watched. Deciding I'm just being silly, I close my eyes and breathe in deeply before I head out to my car.

I weave my way through Seattle traffic and hit the I-5. _I never have to see Mr. Grey again_. I'm immediately cheered by the thought. I switch on the MP3 player and turn the volume up loud, sit back and listen to thumping indie rock music as I press down on the accelerator. Nothing soothes my nerves like a good song and a long swim that usually leaves my muscles burning. However, a nice race in a fast car ought to do the trick. For now.

Kate and I live next door to each other in a small community of duplex apartments in Vancouver, Washington, close to the Vancouver campus of WSU. It feels like home, even though I've only been living here for a year. Maybe it's because I decorated the apartment myself or maybe it's because there is no one that can come in without my permission. Either way, it is my sanctuary, a sanctuary that I will have to leave behind a few days after my graduation. The thought makes me sad. I have grown quite attached to my small flat. It's the place where I have pieced myself together, step by step. It's the war zone where I've fought demons, ghosts and insomnia. It's the place where I realized I have the power to get myself better. It's _my_ place.

Stephen said something about me moving in a house he owns in Medina, Bellevue, right next to the Overlake Golf and Country Club, also owned by the Claytons, as soon as I graduate. I have to admit, the house that Stephen wants me to move in is gorgeous, or at least that's what the pictures and brochure suggest. It was built in the early 1960's and is an identical copy to the Miller House in Columbus, Indiana, designed by Eero Saarinen. Knowing the money the Claytons have at their disposal, I wouldn't be surprised if Stephen's parents commissioned the architect himself to recreate his masterpiece. My new home… but for how long? _How long until you decide what you want from life, Anastasia?_

I don't have any idea, my _dearest_ voice that has taken residence inside my head. I have absolutely no idea. My world has been turned upside down a little over a year ago and ever since then, I'm running around like a headless chicken. I mean, who in their right minds would switch from Business classes to English Lit in their last year? Thank God I've studied literature for over ten years or else I wouldn't have been able to make it so far. And thank God Stephen was so generous to _donate_ a moderate amount just to be sure I would be able to switch classes so late.

_See, Anastasia? You're not _that_ unlucky. It's just that luck leaves you when you most need it._ My subconscious whispers with that sickly sweet voice that makes my skin crawl.

Did I ever mention just how much I hate this annoying voice inside my head?

As I pull up outside, I know Kate is going to want a blow-by-blow account but I can't find the energy to care about that. The recording should be more than enough for her to write an article for the magazine. It's not like her job depends on this article. Why did I do it again?_ Because you care about Kate. _My subconscious replies with a patient and caring voice. Oh yes, Kate! What would I do without her and her constant questions and invading of my personal space? I would probably revert back to the scared girl that I was a year ago. _And there you go again! Stop thinking about that, Anastasia!_ My subconscious chides me and I cut that line of thinking.

"I'm losing my bloody mind, talking to myself!" I mumble as I step out of my car and arm the alarm with the push of a button. I'd have a coronary if my baby got stolen! _We wouldn't want that now, would we?_ My mind replies, sarcastic as ever. I ignore her. My car is the expression of my freedom. Without her, I would feel like I'm missing a limb. The sarcastic voice inside my head – I could do without.

"Ana! You're back." Kate sits in the living area, surrounded by books. She's clearly been studying for finals – though she's still in her pink flannel pajamas decorated with cute little rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression. She bounds up to me and hugs me hard. A year ago, I would have cringed. Now, it brings a smile on my face.

"I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner."

"Yes, well, it _is _raining outside; don't know if you've noticed that. I wanted to get back in one piece." I say as I shrug off my coat and put it on the back of an armchair. I rummage through my satchel and try to find my phone. _Why do I need so much crap?_ I wrap my fingers around the bottle of prescription meds and a cold shiver travels up my spine. _Breathe, Anastasia._

I release it as if it burned my fingers and finally grab my phone. I waive my phone at Kate and ask her to activate her laptop's Bluetooth so I can send her the recording and get this over with as soon as possible. _And forget about it as soon as possible._

"Ana, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it? What was he like?" Oh no – here we go, the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.

"Mostly he was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy – like he's old before his time. He doesn't talk like a 27 year old man. Oh, and he has this way of looking at you like you're the dirt on his shoe if you ask him an uncomfortable question. Which I did, by the way. But I didn't ask him if he was gay. What on Earth possessed you to write down such a stupid question? Do you want to get blackballed?" I ask with a smile. I know exactly why she wanted to ask that specific question. Grey would be the perfect match for Kate's looks and attitude. Come to think of it, maybe her attitude would make him go mad so they wouldn't actually be good for each other. _Oh, well..._

"Whenever he's in the society pages, he never has a date." Kate replies with a shrug. I narrow my eyes at her but she only blinks back innocently. _Whatever, Kavanagh, keep your secrets!_

"Well, whether he is gay or not, that's not your business. People should have the right to a private life, even if they are billionaires." _I would know…_

Kate nods but keeps her thoughts to herself. _Now that's a first!_

"You look better. Did you eat your soup?" I ask, keen to change the subject.

"Yes, and it was delicious as usual. I'm feeling much better." She smiles at me in gratitude.

My phone pings, signaling the complete transfer of data. I pick it up and stuff it in an exterior pocket of my bag so I don't have to rummage through it again if I need it. _That way, I can also avoid touching those damned pills._

"Okay then. That's my queue. I have a couple things I need to do but I'll be back in the evening if you need to ask me anything. Although I think you'll find the interview more than explicit. Let me know if you need anything." I say as I put my coat back on and escape Kate's scrutinizing look.

I drive aimlessly until I reach a supermarket and decide I need to restock my fridge for the next week. It's crowded and some people even bump into me but I don't mind. I love to watch people as they go through their daily routine with their family or simply rush to get home and meet their significant other. Their lives make me curious and make me think of a version of me, living a life in which I'm not fighting panic attacks every time I'm left alone in a room with someone of the opposite sex.

I take my time and day dream about a life in a parallel Universe where I'm whole and there are no marks on my body for people to see and judge. It's often said that you have to fake it until it becomes a part of you so that's what I do: I always focus on the present and wheel my mind away from the past than would only bring me pain. There's no point in re-living something that would only surround me with darkness.

_You cannot fight darkness with darkness, Anastasia, _William's voice makes his way into my subconscious. _You can only fight it with light. _

_He's right, you know?_ My subconscious asks me her rhetorical question, aware of the fact that I won't acknowledge its question or presence inside my head. _Am I going insane?_ Maybe it's the loneliness talking. Maybe talking to William once a month about my real life is starting to wear me thin. _I miss Samantha. She was my light._

Where is my light? I keep searching for it. I keep searching for a reason to look forward to my future and I always come up blank. _Maybe it's because your future is supposed to be _with _someone, Anastasia._ Maybe. Maybe not. I am not flowers and hearts kind of girl but I _do_ want to find someone who would accept me as I am – flaws and tainted past and all that crap that I'm trying very hard not to go back to.

So, no flowers and hearts for me, thank you. Just one heart. _His._ But how can I ask for someone's heart when mine is in pieces? Should I expect him to piece mine back? Is that even possible? It is possible in books, in movies. In real life, not so much. My mother is living proof of that. Once she lost my father, no one could piece her heart back so she turned into this soul sucking creature that cares for nothing more than money and fame. _My own mother._ Should I be afraid that I'm going to turn out like that? I should be.

Sometimes, I am.

When I arrive at Kate's later in the evening, she's wearing headphones and working on her laptop.

Her nose is still pink but she has her teeth into a story so she's concentrating and typing furiously. I'm thoroughly drained – exhausted by the long drive, the grueling interview and the grocery shopping. I slump on to the couch, thinking about the essay I have to finish and all the studying I haven't done today because I was holed up with… him. I suppress a shiver. _Those eyes._

"You've got some good stuff here, Ana. Well done. I hear what you mean about formal. I can't believe you spoke to him like that! Though, I have to give it to you, you've made some fair points in there and even if his tone was _beyond_ arctic, if he didn't agree with you, he wouldn't have felt the need to be so cold towards you. Did you take any notes?" she asks.

"Um... no, I didn't."

"That's fine. I can still make a fine article with this. Shame we don't have some original stills. Good-looking son of a bitch, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. Then again, you knew that already, didn't you? Thank God I had the presence of mind to google him in the car so I wouldn't transform into a puddle of goo at his feet. Now _that_ would have been embarrassing." I say with a chuckle at _that_ particular visual. Truth is, I impressed myself when I was able to give him a firm handshake. That man could melt ice with those smothering gray eyes.

"Given that I foisted this on you at the last minute, you did very well." She glances up at me speculatively. "So what did you really think of him?" Damn, she's inquisitive. But that's Kate for you. _Inquisitive_ is her middle name. I should know that by now. Okay, honesty is always a good policy, right? Let's play that card and see where it takes us.

"He's very driven, controlling, arrogant – scary really, but very charismatic. I can understand the fascination." I add truthfully. The fate of many people lies in his hands. If that doesn't give someone a power trip, I don't know what would. "Oh, and he wants the recording with your final draft of the article _before _you publish it. Don't forget to do that or you'll find out just how scary he can be." I say with a chuckle as I remember our conversation towards the end.

We talk no more of Christian Grey that evening, much to my relief. Once we've talked about our plans for tomorrow, I'm able to sit at the dining table with Kate and, while she works on her article, I work on my essay on Tess of the D'Urbervilles. _Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century. _By the time I finish, it's midnight, and Kate has long since gone to bed. I make my way to my empty apartment, exhausted, but pleased that I've accomplished so much for a Monday.

This is the only color my life has right now but at least it's not all gray. And that's a start in the right direction. My subconscious approves as I close my eyes and drift away to Dreamland.

For the rest of the week, I throw myself into my studies and my volunteer work at the local animal shelter. Kate is also busy, compiling her last edition of her student magazine before she has to relinquish it to the new editor while also cramming for her finals. By Wednesday, she's much better and I no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rabbits PJs. _Thank God!_

The same day, my mother tries to contact me but I put my phone on silent and hide it somewhere I won't be tempted to check it. What could she possibly want? Money? It's really the only thing I think she could possibly want from me now that she's no longer Stephen's wife. _He dodged a bullet with his name on it!_

Later that evening, I call Ray, Mom's Husband Number Two, the man I consider my father, and the man whose name I bear. It's a brief conversation. In fact, it's not so much a conversation as a one-sided series of grunts in response to my gentle coaxing. Ray is not a talker. But he's still alive, still watching soccer on TV and going bowling and fly-fishing or making furniture when he's not. Ray is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw. All seems well with him.

Of course, he doesn't miss the chance to tell me to call my mother and Stephen and stop acting like I've dropped off the face of the Earth. Knowing Stephen, he's found a way to keep tabs on me and make sure everything is OK. Knowing my mother, if she has enough money, she wouldn't even care if I dropped off the face of the Earth. We are _that_ close.

Friday night, Kate and I are debating what to do with our evening – we want some time out from our studies, from our work, and from student newspapers – when the doorbell rings.

Standing on the doorstep is our good friend Jose, clutching a bottle of champagne.

"Jose! Fancy seeing you here!" I give him a quick hug. "Please, do come in."

Jose is the first person I met when I arrived at WSU last year, followed closely by Kate. They welcomed me with open arms into their circle of friends and gave me the strength I needed to finish my studies when it was the last thing on my mind at that particular moment. They were my rocks and they don't even know it.

Not only do Jose and I share a sense of humor, but we discovered that both Ray and Jose Senior were in the same army unit together. As a result, our fathers have become firm friends too. Of course, him being nice to me and making me feel at ease around him has helped our friendship immensely.

Jose is studying engineering and is the first in his family to make it to college. He's pretty damn bright, but his real passion is photography. He has a great eye for a good picture.

"I have news." He grins, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Don't tell me – you've managed not to get kicked out for another week!" I tease and he scowls playfully at me.

"The Portland Place Gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month."

"That's amazing – congratulations!" Delighted for him, I hug him again. Kate beams at him too.

"Way to go Jose! I should put this in the paper. Nothing like last minute editorial changes on a Friday evening." She grins.

"Let's celebrate. I want you to come to the opening." Jose looks intently at me. I stare back, unable to answer. Do I want to raise his hopes about something that will never happen?

"Both of you, of course," he adds, glancing nervously at Kate.

Jose and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside, he'd like to be more. He's cute and funny, but he's just not for me. Sometimes, I get the same feeling with him that I had with Paul. _Stop thinking about him!_ My subconscious screams at me and I banish the thought as soon as it settled into my mind. Jose is _not_ Paul. _Jose is not Paul._ I keep repeating that sentence to myself until I can look at him again and not see Paul's face staring back at me. _See? Progress!_

I watch Jose open the bottle of champagne. He's tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he's all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, Jose's pretty hot, but I think he's finally getting the message: we're just friends. The cork makes its loud _pop_ and he looks up and smiles. I wheel myself to smile back and stop thinking about my past. _I have to fight the darkness with light_. With the light from my friends. And that's exactly what I do that evening. _No more darkness!_ First, I have to find my way into the light and only then can I expect to find someone that I can consider more than a friend. _Yes, that's a good plan,_ my subconscious replies.

Saturday at the shelter is a nightmare. There are lots of families that came to pick up pets for their children and as a result, the animals are restless. I do my best to keep calm so that the animals can pick up on my demeanor and react accordingly but it's not really working when you're sitting next to a child who's bouncing out of his skin when faced with the prospect of a cute pet he can cuddle with.

By the time the shelter is no longer so crowded, it's almost 3 pm and I still haven't eaten anything other than a cup of Greek yogurt and a banana. I let Rob, my supervisor, know I'm going on my lunch break and grab my satchel in a hurry to put something in my stomach and stop the growling. You'd think I have a rabid dog inside me with all the noise.

I greet Maddy and get my usual lunch: a few muffins and an English Breakfast Tea. The inside of the coffee shop is warm and I take my gray sweater off as soon as I take a seat in a more reclusive spot so I don't feel self-conscious about my arms. _Crap__, I forgot my leather cuffs today! Stupid, stupid! Why don't you pay attention, Anastasia? Why?_

I'm moments away from putting back my sweater when I glance up... and find myself locked in the bold gray gaze of Christian Grey who's standing near me, staring at me intently.

"Miss Steele. What a pleasant surprise." His gaze is unwavering and intense.

_Holy crap! _What the hell is he doing here looking all tousled-hair and outdoorsy in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans and walking boots? I think my mouth has popped open and I can't locate my brain or my voice. _This is bad!_

"Mr. Grey," I whisper, because that's all I can manage. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he's enjoying some private joke. It makes me feel uncomfortable, like the joke is on me. _Maybe it is._

"I was in the area," he says by way of explanation. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Steele." His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel... or something. But there's also darkness in those gray eyes.

I struggle to hide my arms. From the look on his face, it's too late, he's already seen them. His jaw flexes and his eyes are filled with unknown emotions that I can't read. I put my hands back on the table and bend my elbows to put some shadows in an effort to hide the track marks. However, there's nothing that I can do about my wrists. _Stupid!_

I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me. My memories of him did not do him justice. He's not merely good-looking – he's the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he's here. In this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. _What are the odds?_ Finally my cognitive functions are restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.

"Anastasia. My name is Anastasia." I mutter and look away from him in an effort to shift my attention to something else, _someone_ else. _No such luck!_ The coffee shop is empty._ Crap!_

Christian Grey takes a seat and puts his cup of coffee down, continuing to analyze me as if I'm on display. It makes my skin crawl. I'm so embarrassed and so ashamed that I forgot my armor at home and anyone can see my past, etched upon my skin. Is he repulsed just like Stephen was? Does he feel the need to throw up – like Stephen did – but has a better poker face? _It doesn't matter, Anastasia. It's not like you could ever explain what really happened. You owe Stephen that much._ My subconscious reminds me with pity coating her words. I mentally agree with her.

"Are you in Portland on business?" I ask, and my voice is too high, like I've got my finger trapped in a door or something. Fuck! _Try to be cool, Ana! And find a way out of this mess!_

"I was visiting the WSU farming division. It's based at Vancouver. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science." Gray says matter-of-factly. I can't stop staring at his lips. I clear my throat awkwardly and smile.

"All part of your feed-the-world plan?" I tease.

"Something like that," he acknowledges, and his lips quirk up in a half smile.

He gazes at my arms for a fraction of a second before snapping his eyes back at mine as if he doesn't want me to know that he had been looking. Suddenly, I'm no longer hungry and the thought of finishing my lunch is making me want to throw up the little that I _did_ manage to eat before he sat at my table. I want to leave, get up and simply _run_ away from this man and everything he stands up for. But that would make me look as if I have absolutely no manners.

"How's the article coming along?" he suddenly asks, breaking the tension that seems to surround our table.

"I'm not writing it, Katherine is. She's very happy with it… or so she claims." I say and shrug.

"I see… is that your only tattoo?" he asks, gesturing towards the tattoo on the inside of my left arm where a quote from _Le petit prince_ is written in elegant letters. _'On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.'_

"Yes." I reply but make no move to talk about it further. Talking would only extend my staying here, with him.

"What does it stand for?"

_And there goes my plan!_ Is he a mind reader?

"A reminder to look deeper and not judge a book by its cover. It's meant to remind me that underneath a hard exterior, there's always a lost soul that is meant to love and be loved, to grow and learn as many things about the surrounding world as it possibly can. It's meant to remind me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel." _Can I go now? _I silently add as I look everywhere and anywhere except at him.

My words, and the feelings behind them, shock Christian Grey. He looks at me, lost and undecided, as if he's trying to piece together a very intricate puzzle. He blinks and breaks away from the spell he was under.

"It's a lovely quote." He whispers, sounding a little lost for words.

"Thank you. It was the first book I ever read." I say in spite of my nerves.

"I'm sorry." He blurts and my eyebrows raise in wonder. The arrogant man who acted a few days ago like he owned the Earth is apologizing! I'm seconds away from pinching myself. What is he sorry for anyway? The way he treated me at the end of the interview? The way he keeps on staring at my scars and track marks? For invading my privacy today of all days when I'm not wearing accessories to cover them up?

"What for?" I ask softly, curious to hear what will come out of his mouth next.

"I know it's rude to stare but for someone who had an addict as a parent, I can't really look away." Grey replies and I'm momentarily stunned. His mother or father was an addict? It would explain why he was adopted at such a young age. But the word _addict_ makes my grind my teeth and my defensive walls are up in full force.

"I'm not an addict!" I hiss and stare him squarely in the eyes.

There's nothing more that I hate other than people making assumptions about me as if they knew everyone's story like the back of their own hand. Everyone's different. Everyone has a story. And even if I would be an addict, it would be my business, not his.

He has the decency to look apologetic.

"I know. Your skin has a healthy, natural glow and your hair is shiny. There are no scabs on your arms, not any other marks that would indicate that you've... _used_ sometime in the near past. Your eyes are bright and clear as they were on Monday. For someone with the marks like the ones you have, you'd have used at least a dozen times since the interview. You're clean."

Words evade me. I'm probably gaping at him while he's gotten his hands on one of my muffins and is expertly peeling the wrapping away as if we're discussing the weather. When he's done, he puts it back on my plate.

"Eat. Your late lunch is growing cold."

With his gray eyes watching me, I do as I'm told, eating with mechanical and precise movements of my jaw and take a few sips of my lukewarm tea. All the while, my brain is in overdrive. Did he just compliment my complexion, eyes and hair while sounding so... I think _calculating_ would be the proper word?

He watches me carefully, as if I'm going to disappear into thin air any moment. The intensity in his eyes is so compelling... and odd.

"Tell me about your family."

_Wow! Talk about whiplash!_

"Um... it's really a long story and my break is kind of over so I have to get back, Mr. Grey."

Standing up, I pull over my sweater and grab my bag. Grey also stands up and watches me get dressed with a small smile playing on his lips. I can't help but wonder what's going through that odd brain of his.

We say our goodbyes but I get the feeling we'll be bumping into each other sooner rather than later. After all, he'll present me with my degree. _Crap! I had almost forgotten about that!_

My thoughts keep going round in circles as I cross the street and narrowly avoid a cyclist that whips past me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street. What is it with these people that don't bother to follow rules and etiquette? I want to turn around and cuss the idiot for almost slamming into me but I know my anger wouldn't be directed at the person it's supposed to be directed at. Namely, myself. I'm getting caught up in Grey's eyes and confusing attitude and I'm not liking it one bit.

And that night, I dream of gray eyes, leafy patterns in milk, and I'm running through dark places with eerie strip lighting, and I don't know if I'm running toward something or away from it… it's just not clear.

* * *

**There it is. Let me know what you think. **

**Also, who else would want to read Christian's POV? Should I just leave it at APOV? Would anyone else be interested in a CPOV other than the person who asked about it? Let the voting begin. I'm keeping count ;)**

**As for the next update... probably Wednesday? Should we make this a regular date? Let me know.**

**Have a nice weekend!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3, everyone!

Enjoy!

Oh, and I'm still waiting for your opinions on a story from CPOV. Anyone interested?

* * *

Ch. 3

I put my pen down. _Finished._ My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face. It's probably the first time all week that I've smiled but it's not like this is the first time it's happened so it's come to the stage where I don't even register it anymore. Sad, I know. It's Friday and we shall be celebrating tonight. _Really celebrating_. I glance across the sports hall at Kate and she's still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end.

It took me four years instead of three but I got to the finish line, odds be damned! I fought with myself tooth and nail to get here and I allow myself to bask in this feeling of… accomplishment. _Yes, accomplishment. _My subconscious agrees with me and pats me on the back for a job well done.

Kate stops writing and also puts her pen down. She glances across at me and I catch her Cheshire cat smile too. _We_ made it. Or, better said, _I _made it. I don't think Kate had ever doubted herself but I know I have. Multiple times.

We head back to our apartments together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Kate is more concerned about what she's going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys. Why _do_ I need all this crap? I'm worse than Mary bloody Poppins!

"Ana, there's a huge bouquet of flowers in front of your door." Kate points out as she unlocks her door. I glance at my door and, indeed, there is a bouquet of white roses in a crystal vase, waiting for me. I glance back at Kate and find her in the doorway, gauging my reaction. Judging by the look on her face, I don't seem too happy or excited.

_That's because you're not._ My subconscious points out.

I smile at Kate, unlock my door and grab the vase with shaky hands.

"They're probably from my dad, Ray. He likes to surprise me. I'll see you tonight, Kate." My steady voice covers up the uneasiness that I'm experiencing. Upon hearing about our celebration party, Kate forgets about the flowers and is, once again, all smiles.

"You bet your sweet ass, Steele! You're not getting out of this one! And I'm bringing Jose to make sure you don't leave 30 minutes into the party!"

_Oh, goody!_

"See you in a few hours, love." I reply and make a hasty retreat before Kate remembers the damned flowers and pulls an inquisition on me faster than I can blink!

_Now, to see which one of my fathers has sent me this._

As carefully as possible, I put the vase on the kitchen island. The bouquet is huge and the perfume of the roses is out of this world. It's tempting me to come closer and breathe in the sweet perfume. But, for me, they're like the poisoned apple that I must stay away from, like the Trojan horse that hides the warriors.

What if it's from Stephen? Do I pretend I didn't get them or should I call him to say _thank you_? First thing's first, though. I have to see who sent them.

I pluck a rose from the vase and examine its stem, looking for thorns but there aren't any to find. _No thorns._ I put it back and hunt for something to enlighten me. A plain white card sits in the middle of the bouquet. I look at it for a few seconds before summoning my strength and opening it. Written in black ink, in neat cursive writing, is:

_Soul mates. I don't know how it is you are so familiar to me – or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are._

"Christian Grey."

I whisper his name as I read it, testing the words on my lips as if I've never uttered them. Christian Grey has sent me flowers. I'm moments away from swooning when a sudden thought occurs to me: how did he get my address? This apartment is not on my name. As per usual, everything I use is on Stephen's name. I eye the bouquet with a mix of fear and weariness. _It's just a bouquet of flowers, Anastasia! Not a bloody bomb!_ The voice of my subconscious fills my head. I look at the bouquet again. Surely no one who would do such a nice gesture would have evil motives. He didn't strike me as the stalker type but then again, I can't fit him in any type because of all those mixed signals he has been giving me. Kate would know what to do and think. But Kate would also be nosy and keen on information and I have yet to tell her about my impromptu meeting with Grey in the coffee shop.

I put the vase in the center of the kitchen island and stare at it for a bit.

_Now you're just acting like an obsessed high school girl._ My inner voice hisses and I make a hasty retreat in my bathroom, quickly stripping and showering away the sweat as I prepare for my monthly meeting with William, all the while thinking about Christian Grey.

I've lost my marbles.

I quickly get dressed in a nice pair of blue washed jeans, a white t-shirt and a pair of checkered slip-ons. I throw my hair up in a high ponytail and check my reflection in the mirror. Quickly making my way out of the apartment with my wallet, keys and phone in my pockets, I march down the stairs towards the garage. My car is waiting for me and, in no time, I'm speeding towards Portland.

I need a long swim to take the edge off._ Where's a damn pool when you need it?_

My destination is downtown Portland, right in the heart of it. It doesn't take long before I've parked my car, heading towards William Hughes's office. William has been my psychiatrist for over a year. He is the man who has taught me how to piece myself back together. My rock. My friend. _My only tie to Stephen Clayton at the moment._

Inside a two-story brownstone, on the first floor, in an office with strong Oriental influences, William awaits with a pen and pad on the desk in front of him. His vivid green eyes follow my every movement and after a few moments have passed, he stands and makes his way towards me, giving me time to anticipate his moves and prepare for the physical contact. I'm not as scared when it comes down to physical contact as I was a year ago but I appreciate the concern nonetheless.

"Anastasia, you're even lovelier than the last time I saw you! How is that even possible?" William says with a warm smile and twinkling eyes as he hugs me tight. I hug him back with just as much enthusiasm then take off my coat and hang it in its appropriate place.

"Thank you, William. You're not too shabby yourself, love! What did they feed you in London?" I say with a genuine smile as I find my usual spot and settle.

"Oh, it wasn't the food. It was the company, Anastasia. It felt good to visit family and friends." He replies with just as much enthusiasm. I can feel the happiness radiating from him and, for a second, I'm jealous of him. I'm jealous of the life he has, of the many opportunities he has at his feet, of the fact that he's comfortable in his skin, of the fact that he has no scars, no demons to fight. He's normal. I'm not.

_That's why I'm on the sofa and he's on the chair._

I want to ask about Stephen but I bite my tongue and settle for a sad smile while I make myself comfortable on the black leather couch that's facing William's armchair. I take off my shoes and sit Indian style under the watchful eyes of my shrink. My position always tells him if I'm in a chatty mood or not. Today I am in a _very_ chatty mood. I begin talking without waiting for his signal.

"I'm _so_ sorry for harassing you for a session this week but with my moving to Seattle now that I'm done with school here, wrapping things up at the animal shelter and finding a buyer for the flat, it'll be impossible for me to find any spare time for a session until the end of next month."

My entire speech is one whole sentence and by the time I've finished talking, I'm breathless.

Will just smiles. It puts me at ease instantly.

"I don't mind at all, Anastasia. If you need me at 5 am on a Sunday morning, I will be there, no questions asked. I know we've been seeing each other for almost a year but, for me, time is of no importance when it comes down to a relationship such as ours. Do you agree?"

I find myself nodding as he speaks.

"Yes."

"Good. Now tell me what has got you so worked up that you felt the need for a session earlier than what we discussed a few weeks back."

I frown.

"I could have probably waited until our next session but it's just… I felt like it was something really good and really wanted to share this with you. Maybe it's silly…" I trail off and look away from William. Now I just feel silly. I should have stuck to the schedule and not bother him ahead of time. _Stupid!_

"Ana, if you believe this is important, then I'm absolutely positive it is. And even if it's not, I would still like to hear about it." Will says, trying to coax the words out of my mouth.

The more I think about it, the less important it seems. I came all this way to tell him about my breakthrough and now, I feel like it's not as important as I initially thought.

"I avoided a panic attack on Monday." I say in a single breath and wait for William's reaction. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, the surprise etched upon his face. It takes a few moments before a big smile settles onto his lips, lighting up his whole face. _He really is handsome!_

"That's wonderful news, Ana. Please, start from the beginning." He says and starts writing down as soon as I open my mouth and begin telling him about my meeting with Christian Grey. I tell him about Kate's sudden illness and the fact that I volunteered to help her get the interview she had been so elated about. I tell him about the general feel of the building, Grey's cold and clinical office and my brief interaction with him, how I felt something was off but couldn't put my finger on it, his boring answers and intricate façade that he wore, never once letting his guard down, until I spoke my mind.

"_Our beliefs rely on strong pillars called convictions_. That's what you said last time. I believe I may have knocked down a few of his when I presented him my own take of what it means to actually live."

"What makes you think that, Ana?" William asks and puts his pen away, focusing his attention solely on me. It's clear that Christian Grey has impacted my daily routine and I'm willing to bet he's as curious as he can be about this new _clue_.

This simple act makes me feel more comfortable, aware that he no longer records everything and focuses his attention more on the ideas that I'm telling him about.

"Christian Grey seems like a man that has it all planed out and won't take any adjustments, no matter how small they might be. He seems to think he has it all figured out and no one can bring anything new to the table, at least on a personal level. It's like he can't manage the notion of _novelty._" I say with a frown as I remember his attitude when I disagreed with him.

"It's not uncommon for people to hold onto the things they _know_ and fear the _unknown_. It's a part of our nature as humans to seek out the unknown while, at the same time, be afraid of what we may find along the way." William points out with a gentle tone. "You of all people know just how hard is to adapt and talk about something uncomfortable."

I rearrange myself on the couch so that I have my legs tucked underneath me and I'm sitting on them. I think about a new approach so that I can convey the feelings I had at that moment. It takes a few minutes before I have my thoughts sorted out and a plan that's ready to be executed but William waits patiently for me, his whole body the picture of calm and patience. _I could use some lessons about that_.

"When we last spoke, you also said that all people have triggers. It's the intensity of the memory that ends up deciding the intensity of the reaction to the trigger. You said that one's experiences and memories end up controlling their reaction in general – whether the trigger is good or bad depends on the memory."

"Yes, I did say that." William replies and takes a sip of water from the glass to his right.

"His reaction was bad… borderline violent. Not to the point of physical violence but I could see it in his eyes. He had the same look as Paul when he… w-when he w-would… when he would lose control, w-when he would hit me and scream at me, only to drop to his knees in the next second and beg f-for my f-forgiveness." I manage to get out as my lungs start shutting down and I'm having difficulty filling them with air. I'm in hell all over again. _Great job, Anastasia! _My subconscious mocks me.

"Ana, I want you to focus on my voice and open your eyes. You're safe now. You're safe and you're here with me in my office, not in the room with him."

His soothing voice is like a cold hand on my forehead, bringing me back from the depths of my cage.

"I'm safe. I'm safe." I repeat my mantra and try to come back from the dark corners of my mind. It's easier said than done. I haven't had an episode like this in a few months and this feels like a setback, just like the almost panic attack in Grey's office. Then again, unlike other times, I've managed to get myself under control before the panic attack was triggered so that could also count as a breakthrough. _And I did it without the bloody meds._

"There you go. Deep breaths. That's it." William says with a gentle tone and breathes with me through my near panic attack. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, weariness coating his words, as soon as I've got my body and mind under control.

"Yes." I choke out even though it's the last thing I want to do at the moment. But I'm aware of the fact that if I don't do it now, I'll probably never do it.

"Good. Tell me, what was the trigger?"

I shut my eyes again and squeeze them. It's hard going back there. It's always _so hard._

"I remembered the feel of his hands around my throat, cutting off my air supply." I whisper and try my best not to lose it again.

"Did this also happen during the interview?"

I shake my head as I allow myself to be transported back to that moment and place, away from the time of my captivity.

"No. I was focused on the interview, on him. That and I constantly reminded myself that there were people outside the office and he had no reason to harm me; he didn't even know my name until I introduced myself. Plus, it would have been terribly humiliating to have an episode with a stranger in the room."

"That's good! That's very good, Ana! Well done!"

I blush and duck my head to examine the cuts on my designer jeans a little closer. His praises always make me uncomfortable, even though I know that my successes are not easily achieved.

"However, you said something that needs addressing. You said that he had no reason to hurt you. I don't agree with that statement and that line of thinking. _No one_ should hurt you, no matter the reason. Hurting someone under the disguise of retribution is nothing more than a sign of hopelessness, no matter how they try to justify it. No one is God to give punishments and carry them out. I want you to remember that, Ana. We are all flawed human beings and we have no right to judge the flaws of those around us. Do you agree with me, Ana?"

I nod my head vigorously.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, is there anything else you'd like to talk about or should we continue with your list?"

"Actually, there is something else. I saw him again on Saturday_. In Portland_. I had just taken my lunch break after a very busy morning and was really looking forward to eating something. I had a very demanding morning and lunch at work. Anyway, so I took my lunch break and ran to the coffee shop right across the street so I wouldn't waste more time. Maddy had given me my order and I sat on a table far off in a corner because it was really hot inside and I had to take my sweater off. The problem was that I had forgotten to put on my leather cuffs that morning and I only had a T-shirt underneath. I risked it anyway.

"I made myself calm down and began eating my lunch when I sensed someone's presence. When I looked up, Grey was staring rather intensely at me and my arms. We didn't speak much. I was too shocked to see him while he was too focused on the marks on my arms and wrists. It was really weird."

"What was weird, Ana?" Will asks with a concerned voice and body language.

"Honestly? Everything. The fact that he was in Portland and just happened to want a cup of coffee at 3 in the afternoon at the exact coffee shop where I was having a late lunch. I don't know… I just had this feeling. Like he was waiting for me, like he _wanted_ to see me. I know it's probably just my imagination playing tricks on me but I couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to see me. He seemed _interested_ in me and I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that idea. Oh, he sent me a bouquet of white roses with this note."

I slide the card towards Will who takes it with a genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He reads it once, maybe even twice, and puts it back on the table between us for me to retrieve it anytime I wish. I eye it but make no move to get it.

"He likes you."

"It seems that way." I murmur and play with the lose threads of my jeans, avoiding eye contact with Will. I can see him frowning with the corner of my eye.

"Are you not interested?"

I shrug.

"If I get close to Christian Grey, he'll start asking questions. He'll want to know and I'd have to lie to him. That wouldn't exactly qualify as a good foundation for anything that could follow." I reply softly and raise from my seat on the couch.

I walk over to the window and stare outside at the blooming magnolias. Such beautiful flowers and, yet, so fragile. _Like yourself, Anastasia._ My subconscious whispers, sadness dripping from her words.

William keeps silent.

I notice a black Mercedes SUV with tinted windows parked across the street and stare at it. It looks so... out of place.

"Am I right?" I ask Will and continue to eye the car. I look away, aware that I'm probably just paranoid. Anyone could own such a car. _Not just Paul._ I suppress a shiver and walk back towards my seat. Will has yet to answer me. He looks lost in thought.

"You could tell him... a few bits and pieces." He replies, a few minutes later.

I huff and plop down on the couch.

"It would only spur him on."

"Or it would make him see just how much you have fought to be where you are and drop it. Either way, there is only one way for him to know and since you're not keen on discussing it with anyone other than me, I think it's safe to assume your secret is safe."

"It's only as safe as I allow it to be. If I start talking about it -"

Will cuts me off before I get the chance to finish my idea. I throw him a dirty look.

"Ana, we both know there's more to this than Christian Grey finding out. Change is scary. Letting someone in is ever scarier. It gives power to the other person. It gives them the power to make you incredibly happy or incredibly sad. And I have a feeling that's exactly what you're afraid of right now."

I keep silent.

"He is going to find out. Your kidnapping had made world news. It's only a matter of time before the press finds out you're here. And when that happens..."

"... they'll descend like vultures."

_I think I'm going to be sick!_

"Ana, are you all right? You look a little pale."

"It's going to be London all over again." I whisper and retreat further inside me.

As soon as Will realizes what I've said, he comes and sits on the couch next to me, keeping a safe distance but also close enough for me to reach out to him.

"I'm sure Stephen will have a better grasp on the situation than he did the first time. Do you want me to contact him and tell him about this?"

The thought of Stephen having to send Luke or anyone else has me shaking my head vigorously. More people around me means more chances of someone slipping up. I can't let that happen. I _won't_ let that happen.

"Thank you for offering, Will, but there's no need. I promise you, the first sign that something is wrong and I'll call Stephen without a second thought. I promise."

William seems placated by my reply but past experience tells me he won't let this go so easily. I have to tread carefully.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about these past weeks or can we get back to your list?" He asks but there's nothing on my mind that I'd like to talk about anymore so I shake my head _no._

"I don't really have anything else to add so I guess we could go back to the list." I reply with a deep sigh. This is the part that I usually end up hating William for. The part where he digs up demons and starts dissecting them.

But it's for the better. It's for _my _best. So I go through it. Session after session. Over and over again. It never stops. _It will never stop, Anastasia. _My demons whisper from their cages.

I shiver.

"Okay. Let me see… tell me about… your regret when it comes to your relationship with Stephen." Will says with a smile. _Definitely not letting go_.

"Oh… that's a lot of talking. Do we still have time?" I try to get myself out of my situation but from William's smirk, I can tell there is no way out.

"We have more than an hour left. Is it enough?"

Unfortunately, it's more than enough.

"We'll see. I have to start from the beginning if we're going to talk about Stephen. You already know some things but I'll just start from the beginning and work my way from there." I say awkwardly as Will resumes his seat once again and waits for my word vomit to stop.

"Anyway, so Stephen was Carla's fourth husband. We went to live with him in London shortly after my mum married him. At the time, I was almost seven years old and didn't really embrace the notion that I would have yet another dad since Ray was the only fatherly figure that I wanted. I lived with Ray for a few years while my mum stayed with Husband Number Three. I wasn't mean and I didn't act up but I was cold towards Stephen at the time. In my eyes, he was taking my mother away from me and forcing me to leave behind the only home I'd ever known. I didn't respond to Stephen's attempts at befriending me and avoided him at all costs. Eventually, Carla had had enough of my 'attitude' and shipped me off to boarding school in France. I only went back to London on holidays and special occasions and, at the time, it was more than fine with me.

"As the years went by, I realized that Stephen wasn't to blame for my mother's lack of maternal instincts. There were times when I would come home and meet my mum in the driveway, ready to go shopping with her friends in tow. Stephen, on the other hand, would drop everything, give me a brief hug and ask his butler to make sure the table is set for three: Stephen, Paul and I. It became out tradition." I say with a smile as I think back to those simple moments in my life.

"Little by little, Stephen grew on me and I suspect the reason why he hadn't divorced Carla all those years was because I also grew on him. In a way, I was the daughter he never had and I guess he wanted to take advantage of that. After the… _incident,_ I closed myself off. I know he blames himself for what happened and me running away to another country all the way across the Atlantic isn't helping matters. This decision to stay away from him is the one truly selfish thing I've ever done and I'm questioning it every day that goes by." I finish off my little story with a sigh. It's exhausting to keep reliving things such as this.

"Do you regret the fact that you've had years to build a relationship with him and you didn't use that time in your favor or the fact that you're no longer speaking to him even though your relationship has evolved during the years?" William asks and I take a few moments to ponder his question before answering it.

"Both. And I know what you're going to say about crying over spilled milk. You know I agree with that. I just… I feel robbed of the time I could have had to build a relationship with him. If Carla would have been a better mother, I wouldn't have been shipped off to boarding school where I basically grew up by myself and treated my family like strangers who I happened to visit during the holidays. Also, even if I was a social butterfly at the age of seven – which I wasn't – after seeing my mum going through failed marriages like it was nothing, wasn't it normal for me to question Stephen's presence in my life? My mum was supposed to be my rock and without her, Stephen never truly had a chance."

"You feel like Carla took away that opportunity from you?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's understandable. You looked up to Carla to show you how to build a relationship and she didn't do that. But now you're older and Carla is no longer present in your life or in Stephen's. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"And yet, you continue to waste time even though that's something you regret; which brings us back to the second part of your regret: his absence from your life. It's within your power to change that, Ana. You're old enough to make decisions without your mother's input, without seeking her counsel. Our goal here is to get you to the state of mind where you will try and form healthy relationships with those around you. We've started with Ray and continued with Stephen, the step-father that has been present in your life for over eleven years.

"As we've already discussed, I'm not expecting you to start working on your relationship with him overnight because that's an impossible goal. You've been raised by teachers and received the occasional affection from people who weren't blood related to you. You have no example of a true loving environment, of loving parents and close family and we need to get you there. It will take time and a lot of energy. It's a long road but the end _is_ within sight.

"The fact that you've grown up before your time is not necessarily a bad thing. The only other option would have been to resort to self-inflicting wounds, a feeling of unworthiness, alcohol, drugs, sex and the list is endless. Some of those items from my list are already tested but you stopped in time. You chose to close yourself off and think thrice before accepting someone in your circle of friends and family. No one can fault you for that. No one _should _fault you for that.

"Each person deals with loss in their own way. You're still mourning the loss of your mother, even if you don't see it that way. Deep down, you still want her in your life. You still hold on to that hope that she will see the errors of her behavior and change, even though, on a conscious level, you are aware that it's too late and even if that change would occur, it wouldn't change all those years of abandonment. You love her and you hate her at the same time. That is your sign that you're not over it yet."

I nod, unable to say anything. He is right. I know it deep down. And it hurts so much I want to grip my hair and pull with all my strength just to feel any other kind of pain other than the one that's slicing through my soul.

"Do you want your mother back, Anastasia?"

I laugh through my tears at his absurd question.

"Of course I do, William. What child wouldn't want their mother back? To have someone to run to, to have a shoulder to cry on, to have someone to turn to and ask for advice… to have a _role model_. But I'm not a child anymore. I've learned that my mother is never coming back from the dark place that she is in and has been for the past twenty years of my life. I've learned that the hard way, through scars, drugs and tears. All I ever wanted was her love. I never got it. _Never._

"The funny thing is, I don't even remember her being different from the way she is right now so I ask myself: _what are you really missing, Anastasia?_ The truth is, I'm missing a dream, a fantasy that I never got to live. I've grown up without my mother. I've come to think of her as a walking corpse, always wanting more from me until she'll turn me into her perfect copy. I don't want to end up like that, Will. She's like a vampire, sucking the life out of the person who wants to help and be there for her. She sucks you dry and leaves you to fend for yourself once she's done.

"It makes me sad. It makes me _so_ sad. I know Stephen loved her at the beginning. And I watched as the light from his eyes dimmed as the years went by. It got to the point where he could no longer be in her presence without me or Paul acting as a buffer. But, unlike Paul – who looked up to her and considered her his own mother – I stayed away and built walls around myself. As it turned out, it was the _best_ decision I have ever made in my entire life." I say as bitter tears stream down my cheeks. I make no move to wipe them away.

"What about your decision concerning Stephen?"

I shrug. "I… I want to, William. I _really_ want to but… I'm just… ashamed, I guess."

"Ashamed? Why?" Will asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, ashamed. You know that Stephen visited me at the hospital soon after I was given the OK to receive visitors. His presence scared me. He didn't try to hurt me or anything. He just looked like Paul. Or, better said, Paul looked like him. Anyway, the bottom line is that all I could see was Paul staring back at me. I screamed and fought my restrains and begged people to take me away from him, to get him far away from me, whichever was easier. He was heartbroken.

"He didn't just lose Paul in that… incident. He also lost me and whatever chance he had at being my father. After I was released from the hospital, I went to a rehab facility for two months because of all the heroin Paul had pumped into me during those almost two months of captivity. I just… drifted apart from him, I guess. He would try to visit and convince people to let him in only to see me cringing away from him.

"The first three weeks in rehab were worse than the four days I went without the heroin. It was horrible. I was in full withdrawal and I was so angry, all the time. When Stephen tried to visit me again, I asked them not to allow him access anymore. After I got out, I just took the first plane here, to Seattle, and jumped into Ray's arms.

"I can't ask Stephen to talk to me. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't want to talk to me either."

I focus my attention back to Will as the haze of my memories clears away from my mind.

"Ana, the fact that Stephen is supporting you financially is a proof that not everything is lost. You are not him and you cannot know what's going on inside his head."

"The fact that he's paying for all of this is proof that he feels guilty and feels like he owes me! He saw the huge bruises, the track marks and the bandages on my wrists and threw up at the sight of them. I disgust him, William." I say with tears in my eyes as I remember the look of horror on his face.

"So you believe that he feels compelled to take care of you to make up for both the internal and external marks that Paul left on you." William's voice brings me back from those memories and makes me focus on the present.

"I believe so, yes." I confirm with a nod.

"There is a lot I could say to make you reconsider your position but for now, I'm just going to say that Stephen is _not_ under the obligation of sustaining you financially. He divorced Carla and left her with a monthly pension and a condo in Paris. _You _were not a part of that agreement. And, yet, here he is, paying your studies, your living expenses, buying you a flat, a car, a cell phone and everything else that you could possibly need in order to live comfortably.

"We shall continue this talk another time once we've digested this part of the conversation. Tell me about your track marks. You said Mr. Grey looked at your arms. How did it feel?"

"Well, they are visible." I say as I trace the purple vines that are present near the inside of my elbows. "He was looking with this intense look before snapping out of it and looking away only to look back again. He said he knows I'm not using anymore. It was... I don't know... weird, I guess. Kate noticed them too, though she didn't ask any questions. I could tell she wanted to but refrained."

"Did you give her an explanation?" William asks as he tilts his head to the side and regards me intently.

"No. I just stopped wearing T-shirts and camisoles around her." I say with a shrug and look around his office, taking in the comfortable atmosphere he created. I am the only patient he sees here in Portland and it makes me feel as if he designed this office especially for me since I am quite fascinated with the Eastern culture. _It wouldn't surprise me if Stephen had paid for this office and everything in it._

"Did Kate comment on that change?" Will asks as he writes down my answers.

I shake my head. "No."

"Katherine is the only female you've allowed to get close to you, other than Samantha. Didn't you want her to comment on that?"

"No."

Will frowns. "Why not? Doesn't Kate's opinion matter?"

"It's not about whether it matters or not. It does matter, in a way. She's my only friend, apart from Jose, and I'm keeping things from her. But I can't tell her. I just… can't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid, OK? I'm bloody terrified. I don't know how she's going to react and I wouldn't be able to handle her rejection."

"So you're going to allow your fear and shame to govern over your life?"

"I'm not doing that, William."

"Yes, you are. You've already made a choice, Ana. You chose to stop being a victim the day you stepped into my office and promised me you're not going back to that woman. And now, you're going back on that promise." William points out with a calm demeanor but there's a cold edge to his voice that wasn't there a few moments ago.

"I would like to go home now, please." I say with a defeated voice, aware that our conversation is not over. Knowing William's MO, he'll drill into my skull until he finds what he's looking for.

"Of course. We only had five minutes left anyway." William says with an indulgent smile.

"Thank you." I whisper back, looking away from him. I don't want to see the pity that I'll surely find.

"Ana, as a homework of sorts, I would like you to write Stephen a letter. It's up to you to decide whether you're actually going to send it but I would like you to put your thoughts and feelings on paper. You don't have to bring it to me. Just write it."

"Okay."

"Good. See you next month, Ana. Be safe."

"You too. Goodbye, William." I say with a departing kiss and hug.

I walk out of the office in a daze, vaguely aware of my surroundings. My sessions with William usually leave me full of doubts, anger, sadness but also hope. Hope that, one day, I might win the war with the demons inside me.

When I look across the street, I find that the black car is gone.

_See, Anastasia? No one's here to take you._ My subconscious whispers, trying to reassure me and get my nerves under control.

However, I still get in the car quickly and peel out of the parking space like a crazy person.

Yes, I am paranoid. Anyone who has been through the hell I've been would react the same way.

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**How was it? Next update should be around Friday. See you then and thank you so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello!**

**Sorry for the long wait!**

**I'm moving so it's kind of a mess around here (my head included) but don't worry! As soon as I'll get this under control, we should be back to regular updates for both stories. Thanks for your understanding!**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S.: Don't worry, **Yocasta Santiago, **I am NOT a quitter ;) This story will be finished, especially now that I have Manaliac as my Beta!**

**P.P.S.:** Manalic, **sorry for the late update even though you've read it in record time. Thank you so much for your help!**

* * *

CH 4.

By the time I park my car in the garage, it's almost 6 PM and I'm aware of the fact that I only have one hour to get ready for this party Kate's insisting I have to attend. If only she knew just how much I despise large crowds filled with people using the excuse of dancing to grind on me. I suppress a shiver and step out of my car, locking it and running to my flat so I can take a shower and start prepping.

After 30 minutes of plucking, exfoliating, polishing and buffing, it's safe to say I've had my fill. My hair is blow-dried and straightened, the long, shiny tresses cascading down my back, and my make-up is minimal: mascara and a tinted lip-balm. I put on my outfit, black tights and black bondage boots and I'm ready to party. Or at least _pretend_ I'm ready.

As soon as I walk through Kate's door, she hands me a glass of champagne and raises her glass for a toast.

"To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle." She grins and drowns her glass in one gulp.

"To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results." I say and take a careful sip of my glass. _At least _try_ to have some fun, Anastasia. You deserve it._ My subconscious whispers back at me. I agree with her. I deserve to relax in the company of my friends. I've earned it.

The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Jose joins us. He won't graduate for another year, but he's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our new found freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. I pour myself a glass and nurse it while my friends finish the content of the pitcher in less than half an hour. _Someone's thirsty…_

"So what now Ana?" Jose shouts at me over the noise.

"Kate and I are moving to Seattle. Kate's parents have bought a condo there for her and I have a house that's 20 minutes out of Seattle." I reply with a shy smile.

"Dios mio, how the other half live. But you'll be back for my show."

"Of course, Jose, I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

"It means a lot to me that you'll be there Ana," he whispers in my ear. I'm uncomfortable with the sudden coziness but bite my tongue and try my best to not let it show. "You're still nursing your margarita. Don't you like it? You want something else?"

I laugh at his attempt to get me drunk. _Boys are sooo obvious._ "I think I'd better steer clear of alcohol tonight. I'll go get you guys a pitcher of beer, how 'bout that?"

"More drink, Ana!" Kate bellows.

Kate has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm draped over Levi, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. He's given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds him. He only has eyes for Kate. She's all tiny camisole, tight jeans and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down softly around her face, her usual stunning self. Me, I'm more of a Converse and t-shirt kind of girl, but I'm wearing a champagne colored dress with ¾ sleeves, paired with heels so one could say I've definitely stepped out of my comfort zone. I move out of Jose's hold and get up from our table.

I weave my way through the dancing bodies and place my order to the cute barman who smiles at me and winks. I smile back but avert my eyes. I'm not looking for a hook-up. I reach for my phone and mindlessly surf the web while waiting for the beer. I still haven't called mum back but she will have to wait until I'm in Seattle. _You're only delaying the inevitable, Anastasia._ My subconscious points out and, as much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, she's right. _Maybe I should change my phone number,_ I think to myself but my subconscious shakes her head. _You know you want to talk to her._ I mentally roll my eyes, grab the pitcher of beer and make my way back to the table.

"You've been gone so long." Kate scolds me. "Where were you?"

"I was in line for the beer."_ And I was stuck thinking about my mother who doesn't give a shit about me._

Jose and Levi are having some heated debate about our local baseball team. Jose pauses in his tirade to pour us all beers and I decline a glass.

"Kate, I think I'd better step outside and get some fresh air."

"You better not make a run for it!" Kate shouts and I nod.

"I'll only be five minutes." I say and try to stop my head from spinning like a disco ball. It's not the alcohol but the crowded bar and the constant invasion of my private space that is making my head spin.

I make my way through the crowd again. I am beginning to feel nauseous, my head is spinning uncomfortably and I'm a little unsteady on my feet. Why did I have to come here in this crowded bar? Oh yes, because Kate insisted and I couldn't bear to see her defeated look if I'd said _no_. So now, I'm fighting a panic attack every time a guy sets his eyes on me. _You could have been honest to Kate and she would have understood. This is all your fault, Anastasia. Don't place the blame on someone else._ My subconscious shakes her finger at me, looking disappointed.

Drinking in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes helps me clear my head and calm down.

"Ana," Jose has joined me. "You okay?"

"I just needed a few moments of silence with my thoughts." I smile weakly at him and look away from him.

"Me too." He murmurs and his dark eyes are watching me intently. "Do you need a hand?" He asks and steps closer, putting his arm around me.

"Jose, I'm okay. I've got this." I try and push him away but he just won't budge.

"Ana, please!" He whispers, and now he's holding me in his arms, pulling me close.

"Jose, what you doing?" I say, even though I know _exactly_ what he wants to do. _Oh, God!_

"You know I like you, Ana. Please." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. Holy fuck... he's going to kiss me. "No Jose, stop – no." I push him, but he's a wall of hard muscle and I cannot shift him.

His hand has slipped into my hair and he's holding my head in place.

"Please, Ana, cariña," he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet – of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.

"Jose, no," I plead. _I don't want this. You are my friend, and I think I'm going to throw up._

It's Paul all over again. Jose's face transforms before my eyes and all I can see is Paul, his face red with rage, trying to kiss me and me trying to escape even though I'm tied to the chair. I shut down and retreat in the depths of my mind, shielding myself from Paul, Jose – it doesn't even matter anymore. All that matters is that I'm alone in this parking lot and there's no escape. _There's no escape._

"I think the lady said no." A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Christian Grey, he's here. _How?_

Paul – _Jose _– releases me and I almost fall on my knees. I'm moments away from falling down on the wet pavement when Grey reaches out and grabs me roughly to prevent my fall. Deep down, I know he doesn't want to harm me but the damage is already done. I shut down once again and scream at the top of my lungs. A blood curling scream leaves my lips and makes Grey flinch back but his hold remains tight, his muscles locked in place, fingers digging into my arm. _That'll leave some nice bruises to show for my failure._

My mind decides it has enough and I black out, darkness swallowing me and leaving me light as a feather. _Why did you have to go out, Anastasia? You knew something like this could happen._ My subconscious screams at me but I'm beyond caring at this point. I allow the darkness to wrap me in its cold cloak and shut up my brain.

_There. Nothing can harm me anymore._

"Ana, love? Open your eyes. I'm here now, Ana. You are safe. You are safe, _petite fille_." A voice very similar to Sawyer's coaxes me out of the dark corners of my mind. I slowly come back, following the voice like a light beacon that's getting rid of the darkness. "There you are, sweet girl." My eyes open and I find myself face to face with Luke Sawyer, Stephen's head of security and the man who found me, two months after my disappearance, tied up to a chair, shivering from withdrawal. _The man who saw me at my worst and whom I've pushed away._ Is my mind playing tricks on me?

I stare at him, my mind unable to find any words that could express the myriad of emotions swelling inside my chest.

"Luke… c'est toi?" I ask in French, the words spilling out of my mouth before my mind has a chance to register it.

Luke beams back at me and nods carefully, gauging my reaction. I frown. How did he come to be here? I look around and find that I'm sitting on a jacket in the same parking lot where I fainted after shutting down. Christian Grey and the man I saw at GEH are standing close, both looking anxiously at me as if I'm going to start screaming again. _You've truly embarrassed yourself, Anastasia!_ I look back at Luke and launch myself in his arms, breathing in his clean, spicy scent. The effect is immediate: my muscles relax and I come down from my adrenaline high. Tears form in the corners in my eyes and I start crying in earnest, pouring out all my frustration, anger and pain into those salty rivers that start flowing down my cheeks.

"Shhhh… I'm here now, Ana. You are safe, you are safe." He continues to shush me, rocking me as if I were a child in need of reassurance from his mother. _Only your mother never held you while you cried your heart out, _my subconscious points out. We stay like this for a few minutes, wrapped in our own bubble. I'm afraid to open my eyes and find that it was all a dream, a prank that my imagination is playing on me. But, as time passes and Luke is still in my arms, I begin to entertain the idea that maybe he's not a figment of my imagination.

"Ana?" His voice breaks me out of my confused thoughts.

I look up at him but can't make my mouth open.

"Where are your meds, love? Did you bring them with you?" Luke asks with a calm and low voice. Grey and the other man are within hearing range and their presence makes me anxious. I glance in their direction, hoping to convey with my eyes what my mouth is unable to say. I shake my head and hide my face into his chest once again.

The man standing next to Grey leaps into action and enters the bar, returning with my clutch and with Kate, Jose and another man in tow. He hands Luke my clutch and steps aside. I glance anxiously up at Grey. He's glowering at Jose, and he's furious. _Crap._ I notice through a blur what he's wearing; a loose white linen shirt, snug jeans, black Converse sneakers, and a dark pinstriped jacket. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and I see a sprinkling of hair in the gap. If only I wasn't so out of it, I would have been impressed how good he looked. But my hormones haven't woken up yet.

"Ana! Oh my God! What happened? Why are you here? Did someone attack you?" Kate starts firing question after question but all of them remain unanswered. I can't find the energy to open my mouth, let alone answer any of them.

"Miss Kavanagh, as you can see, now is _not_ the time. Now, do you happen to have Ana's pills? They are not in her clutch." Luke says in a tone that leaves very little up for discussion. Kate stops speaking and looks me over with a worried face. I feel myself growing paler. _She doesn't know about the pills, Luke._

"No. I didn't even know she _was_ on any medication. What's going on? Who are you? Why is she white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf?" Kate asks and points at me.

"My name is Luke Sawyer and I'm Ana's personal guard. Ana had a panic attack. It's under control now. Can you tell me if she has been drinking?" Luke asks Kate and then turns his attention back to me once Kate tells him I only had a few sips of champagne a few hours prior. "Ana, can I give you a light sedative to help you relax until we get home? Please nod or squeeze my arm if you agree."

I nod my head and close my eyes. I'm so tired. It's like all strength has left my body, leaving me drained, exhausted and on edge. _Not _a good combination, trust me.

Luke leaves me alone for a few moments while he gets his kit. I'm sitting on his jacket, still as a granite statue, my thoughts a jumbled mess. How could Jose try to force himself on me? I considered him my friend! Granted, he did give me signs that he wanted to be more than that but he seemed to finally understand that we were never going to be more than just close friends. When did it start going downhill from there? _When?_

_This is the second time you didn't see it coming, Anastasia. I thought you'd learned your lesson by now, _my subconscious admonishes me with a stern voice.

Luke appears in my line of vision and saves me from the voice inside my head that's eerily familiar to my mum's. He is wearing rubber gloves and has a hypodermic needle. I can only hope whatever is in that tube will keep away the demons that are fighting to break out of their cages.

"This will help you sleep, Ana." I look up at him in panic and shrink away. No! Sleep equals dreams and night terrors. _No!_

"Don't worry, love. I'll be in the same room with you. I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm here. I'm here. You're safe, Ana. You're safe." He croons and smooths my hair down my back. His touch is soothing and his calm, even voice makes me come back from the edge of yet another panic attack. I lean towards him and allow him to lift my sleeve and push the needle into a vein. The relief is almost instant. I feel my eyes and head dropping and, soon enough, darkness surrounds me once more.

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. _Hmm…_ I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the familiar surroundings. I'm in my bed and Luke is nowhere in sight. _Was it a dream?_ Do I even want it to be a dream? Would I chose a normal life without Luke in it or would I go back to the terrified girl from last night who had Luke close to her? As the door to my bedroom opens, I have my answer.

Luke Sawyer, former N.C.O.S in the Légion étrangère, is looking at me with mixed emotions swirling behind his eyes. He's a very handsome 34 years old man, tall, broad shoulders, narrow hips and lean muscle. Icy blue eyes and jet black hair complete the package. If we would ever feel more than just brotherly love, there is no doubt in my mind that I would be at the arm of this man, no matter the comments our relationship would stir.

However, he's like my brother. Actually, he's more than just a brother. He's the only person who didn't shrink away from me when I was at my worst, looking like a crack whore. And I've pushed him away, pushed his memory away and tried to have a life in which he didn't fit; a normal life where my well-being was not in jeopardy every time I left the Clayton Manor. Fate, however, seems to have a different plan, though. _So much for forging one's own destiny, _I think bitterly.

Luke takes a few steps forward and sits at the foot of my bed.

"I've made breakfast. You must be famished."

I nod shyly and look down at my fingers then start tracing the little scab that proves last night isn't a dream.

"How are you feeling, Ana?" Luke asks, his gentle voice enveloping me in warmth.

"Good." I croak and clear my throat. My throat feels like no drop of water has soothed it in years. I swallow painfully, trying to get saliva to soothe the dull ache. It's no point. Water is the only solution.

"Good. When you're feeling up for it, you can come and eat and we'll discuss matters afterwards." Luke says with a small smile and leaves me alone once again.

I jump out of my bed straight into the shower, stripping off my pajamas in the process. The water feels heavenly as it cascades over my body, soothing my aching muscles and giving my mind a well deserved rest from all the thinking. The only thing I can focus on is the hot water and how it glides over my skin, flushing it and warming my bones.

I put on a clean pair of loose fitting cotton gray sweats and a black V-neck T-shirt and make my way towards the kitchen where I find Luke waiting for me with a full English breakfast and a cup of English Breakfast Tea.

_Luke's brought England with him._

I sit at the breakfast island, all teary-eyed, with my heart clenched and stare at him like he's going to disappear into thin air any moment. It could all be in my mind, trying to cope with last night's panic attack. _It's a possibility._

Luke picks up on my mood and sits on the seat next to me, giving me enough space to hug him if I so desire. I want to. I want to hug the air out of him and lose myself in his comforting scent. I want his familiar strength to keep my demons away. But I don't. I have to fight my battles alone. So I settle for a small smile and a big bite out of a sausage.

_That ought to do it for now._

The atmosphere is tense and each bite that slides down my throat feels like barbed wire but I keep on eating, trying to fill the void in my gut with food, even though I know it's not going to help matters. I finish eating in record time and drown my lukewarm tea as Luke gathers the dishes and puts them in the dish-washing machine.

"Shall we go into the living room so we can talk or would you rather stay here?"

"The living room, please." I reply with a meek voice, already expecting the tongue lashing that I'm going to get.

Luke nods and allows me to lead the way. As soon as I'm settled, he starts his tirade, eyes blazing, hands flying everywhere.

To say I'm intimidated would be the understatement of the century!

"What you did last night was stupid, reckless, incredibly naïve and… did I mention stupid? You should know better by now, love. A beautiful girl like you, alone in the parking lot of a bar filled with drunken students, is a recipe waiting for disaster. When I'm going to get my hands on that _boy_, he'll be sorry and beyond! Forcing himself on a woman should be beneath him but it seems like he needs a little... memory refreshment."

I glare at him. Yes, what Jose did was incredibly stupid and he deserved a good kneeing in the balls – a_nd he's probably going to get one the next time I'll see him – _but unleashing Luke on him would be a death sentence and I don't want to have him on my conscience.

"Now that I've said my two cents about that _boy, _I think we should talk about the reason why I'm here: Christian Trevelyan-Grey."

"You're here because of Christian Grey?" I ask, surprise more than obvious in my voice. I thought William called him and told him about my recent issues.

"I'm here because _someone_ has been digging around in your past, trying to figure out how you ended up in rehab during your senior year at Oxford. Someone attempted to access your school files and tried to cover up their tracks afterwards. The same person hacked into Scotland Yard's server, looking for information about your disappearance and the circumstances surrounding your sudden reappearance. He tried using a high rank clearance at first. When that failed, he pulled out the heavy artillery. Of course, he didn't find anything. You're the only person that still has all that information. Prescott has destroyed her copy after she read it all.

"The person I'm talking about is Mathew Welch. He is Mr. Grey's security adviser. He's also the one who runs the background checks on everyone in the proximity of his boss. At first, I thought you applied for a job at GEH Inc. but a closer inspection told me you didn't. What's going on, Ana? Why is Christian Grey so interested in your past?"

Bloody hell! Christian Grey has been digging through my past? Why would he do that?

_Will already provided the answer to that, Anastasia. Curiosity._ My subconscious quips.

"I don't know, Luke." I whisper, stupefied. "He sent me flowers yesterday." I say and point towards the beautiful white roses that sit on the coffee table. I had moved their location just before I left for the bar because I wanted to see them. Whenever I caught sight of them, I smiled. Now, I can't stand to see them. I want to grab that vase, drain the water, and throw it out the bloody window!

He played nice while searching through my past like he was entitled to. _The bastard!_

_It was all just a farce._ I'm saddened by the thought.

"About those pills…" Luke starts to speak but I cut him off and throw a glare in his direction.

"Luke, God is my witness, I love you to pieces but this is _not_ up for discussion." I say with a firm voice that leaves nothing up for discussion.

"Really, Ana? You're going to play the _independence _card?" he asks, jaw set and eyes blazing.

I stand my ground and lift my head up high.

"Why shouldn't I?"

The coldness in my voice shocks Luke momentarily. I can see it in his eyes. He expected me to submit to another tongue lashing.

"I've kept my end of the bargain. I took a step back and let you live your life as you pleased. But I draw the line when it comes down to your safety! You haven't had that bottle refilled for over four months now, Ana! You should have been under treatment for _at least_ six months and you stopped after two. Explain to me why you felt the need to go against what William's advice because I don't get it, Ana! I thought you wanted to get better." Luke finishes his rant with a sad voice paired with equally sad eyes that make me look away from him.

"I _am_ getting better. I haven't had a panic attack in almost a month. And it has nothing to do with those bloody _happy pills._ I stopped taking them because they made me groggy and I always had this urge to puke my guts out. I had no appetite. I was a walking zombie. I couldn't focus or pay attention to my surroundings." I whisper, not wanting to talk about it but knowing that Luke is not the type of person who just drops it because you want him to.

"So you just stopped taking them without talking to William and giving him feedback? He could have looked for something that would have been a better fit for you, love. A different dosage. A different drug. Instead, you lied to him and exposed yourself to situations like the one last night. Why put yourself through that torture, Ana?"

His voice shifts from angry to pained. His demeanor follows the same route. My shoulders drop and I breathe in deeply before I look into his eyes with anger cursing through my veins.

"Because I deserve it, okay?!" I scream at the top of my lungs and I'm sure even Kate – who's a heavy sleeper – has woken up. I don't care. There's so much anger that I keep buried and it's bound to come up sooner or later. Because of that… incident, we've all been carrying around heavy burdens. Me – for not seeing it in Paul's eyes and his possessive actions; Stephen – for bringing us so close to the point where Paul felt it would be OK do to what he did; and last, but not least, Luke – for not being able to keep me safe from my own brother. He wasn't my step-brother. He was my brother, the only person I've allowed to get past my walls and take a permanent residence in my heart. _And look how that turned out…_

"Ana…"

"Don't _Ana _me! Don't start preaching about something you aren't applying! You tell me I'm blaming myself for something that couldn't be avoided? Well, you're doing the exact same thing! So shut it!"

"That's different. I was supposed to protect you, Ana. And I've failed. Ana, when I found you drenched in a cold sweat, suffering from withdrawal, tied to that chair with the needles on the floor… My God! Words cannot describe how I felt in that moment! And Paul's body…"

"Stop! Please… stop!" I beg, my voice shattering into a million pieces like a crystal vase.

But he doesn't. He keeps pushing, keeps _trying..._

"Ana, even _I _still have nightmares – and I have seen things very few people have had the stomach to witness. Love, help is not for the weak. Help is for the strong who want to overcome their fears. Allow yourself to _really_ look for help. There's no shame in that." He begs, one step away from dropping on his knees in front of me.

"Luke, you are not going to call William. I don't want or need a session with him right now. What I want is a session with Mr. Grey to give him a piece of my mind and that's exactly what I'm going to get. I'm going to Seattle to talk to Mr. Grey and settle this crap once and for all. I can't believe he had the nerve to search through my past, to access confidential information like that. This has to stop now!"

"Love, you are not in the right mindset for such a conversation with Mr. Grey right now. Going to Seattle to confront him in this state is not going to do any good. You need a clear and cold head for this. Right now, you'll only end up screaming at each other."

"What makes you think that?" I huff and cross my hands over my chest.

"Love, I've known you ever since you were twelve years old and you were screaming at your bodyguard that you could go to the loo without his help. I think I know what's going on in the pretty head of yours. You're out for blood and he is your target." Luke states with a matter-of-factly voice. _He knows you like the back of his hand. _My subconscious notes. It's true.

"I did do that, didn't I? In my defense, that bodyguard was being a tad over-protective. I mean, come on, it's the damn loo. Did he really have to follow me there?" I say with half a smile and a snicker leaves my lips.

My joke works and Luke is chuckling. I know I'm not going to get more out of him in this current situation. I sigh and look at him, serious once again.

"Luke, I need to do this. He ordered a bloody background check on me! What the fuck?" I say with as much calm as I can muster when I think back to Christian Grey's actions. I really don't get him. Why did he have to do what he did? Was it just curiosity or was it more? I have to know.

"Honestly, everything around him is airtight but from the little I've managed to find, it's standard procedure for Grey House and Grey himself. I wouldn't be surprised if he has one on his own parents. Every single person that comes in contact with him, his family or his company, goes through this background check. It's like a filter." Luke explains but I'm no closer to an actual explanation than I was before he told me this.

"See, that's where things get odd and twisted. I didn't need the bloody filter! I'm not in his entourage. I'm not under his pay. I'm not doing business with him. So why did he snoop around?" I continue to press even though I know Luke doesn't possess more knowledge than what he's already shared… or does he? I look at my bodyguard more closely and with a little more calm and detect a trace of something…

"Could it be that he's interested in you and wanted to make sure you weren't a serial killer?"

There's a tinge of amusement in Luke's voice but there's also something else there. He's hiding something. Years of having Luke by my side at all times have made him know me better than I probably know myself but the reverse also applies. I know him better than anyone, better than himself probably.

"Did he look for something specific? Something that can point to what he needed the information for?" I ask and watch Luke's reaction closely and with a collected demeanor.

"Ana..." He pleads with his eyes and I _know_ there's something more to this story than he originally let on.

"Don't Ana me! Tell me, what did he look for?" I snap and glare at him. He looks away, defeated and knowing that, just like him, I'm not the type of person who will just back off without getting the answers I so desperately want.

"I promised Stephen I was going to keep you away from all of this. He said he is going to take care of this matter and I trust that's exactly what he will be doing these next few days."

"He knows it's Grey?" I gasp, a little shocked that Stephen may already know about Christian Grey even though I've known him for such a short time. Then again, I wouldn't put it past Stephen to know everything that has happened ever since I set foot in Grey House.

"No, he suspects but he's not sure. When Welch failed to cover his tracks, security went up in a frenzy but no one knew why someone all the way from the States would look for information on you. Plus, there isn't anything that can point to the fact that you and Grey know each other from a previous interaction." Luke explains but my nerves are still on edge.

"That's because we don't know each other! I filled for Kate on an interview she was supposed to get for the school magazine and that's all there is to it. Then he starts showing up in Portland, in the coffee shop where I always have lunch, sends me flowers with a nice card and then miraculously saves me from Jose. I can understand one coincidence but two are more than enough to start raising some flags." I murmur and start pacing around the room in an attempt to keep my emotions under control and my mind from spinning.

"Well, you _are_ hiding things." Luke points out with a humorless chuckle. I stop and glare at him.

"Yes, I am. But what's it to him? If he would stop interacting with me, he would never have to see me again. We don't do business. Not even Stephen is connected to him. And yet, here he is. He had no right to do what he did, Luke. So answer the bloody question: what _did_ he look for? Some of the information you mentioned was public knowledge. Hell, the press back in UK did a more thorough search than that. Except for the Scotland Yard server. Why did he go there?" I continue to press, letting Luke know that I am not going to let this go until he gives me what I want: the truth.

It takes Luke a minute of thinking and weighing in his options before he sighs loudly and drops his head into his hands.

"Those two months. Credit card information, phone records, school records, and medical records, anything that could tell him where you went during those two months." He murmurs with his head still down and my blood runs cold.

_Crap!_

"He didn't find anything." Luke quickly adds, as if that would make it all better.

"That's because there_ is_ nothing to find. I was stuck in that house for two months! Did he look for anything else?"

"Was there anything else to look for?"

"Paul."

Luke shakes his head.

"No, just you."

"Well, at least I dodged _that_ bullet, even though there was nothing to find on Paul either."

"Yes, that's the only silver lining that this story has."

I sit in silence for a few minutes, unable to wrap my head around this turn of events. Grey _was_ odd but some people can come off that way and still be nice and mind their business. One example of that is me. But I don't go snooping through other people's pasts.

"Luke, if there is anything that I'm certain about is that Christian Grey will not back down until he gets what he wants. He is a driven son of a bitch and likes things done his way and only his way. So I'm going to beat him to the punch. I'll give him what he wants but on my terms."

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, that's a bad idea."

Deep down, I know it's a bad idea. I would be giving sensitive information to someone who might decide to destroy me with it. But that look in his eyes… there _was_ something there. There was something eerily familiar to the same look in my eyes when I think back to my past. The way he looked at my scars _.._. it almost brings goosebumps on my skin.

"Well, I think it's a great idea. It's the only way." I murmur and lock eyes with Luke.

"You're going to give him…" he trails off with an incredulous look on his face as he studies my own face, probably hoping to find something that would prove his assumptions wrong.

"Yes. That is what he's after, is it not? That's what he's going to get." I say with a firm nod and a flat voice.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Luke says cautiously.

"I don't have a choice now, do I?!" I snap and start pacing around the room once again. "That can of worms has already been opened after I put so much effort into closing it. I only talk to William about the present, about my current life and its struggles. That chapter of my life is closed, Luke. So if he wants to open it, he can be my guest. But I'm not going to guide him through all that crap. I don't owe him anything. And even if I did, what I'm about to give him will even out the score nicely, enough for him to back off and mind his own damn business."

"Ana, there's a reason why you're the only person in possession of all that information. If this leaks out to the press, it'll be last year all over again. We barely got that contained and erased. Do you want to go through all that all over again?"

I shudder at that particular memory.

"My thoughts exactly." Luke points out with a sad voice.

"It won't leak to the press. And if it does, I'll tell Stephen and he'll hunt Christian Grey down 'til the ends of the Earth. That should be a strong enough incentive to keep his mouth shut."

It had been enough to get the press back in the UK to leave me alone. Surely one man in Washington, USA, would not be such a hard task for someone as powerful as Stephen Clayton.

"Love, we're talking about a cocky 27 year old billionaire. Do you honestly believe that he will keep all this information to himself? What if he has his eyes set on one of Stephen's companies? What if this whole witch hunt is about that? You would be giving him enough ammo to take down the whole Clayton Empire in a damn heartbeat."

"This is not about Stephen." I say and think back to my interview with Grey. This is about me and my questions. This is about me and my attitude. This is about _me._ I know it deep within my bones.

"How can you be sure?" Luke asks and sits back in his seat, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, challenging me.

"Because if it were, he'd also look into Paul. I'm not a Clayton. I'm just the daughter of his ex-wife, the gold digger and socialite who fell from grace once Stephen divorced her." I say with a wave of my hand.

"Maybe it's not about Stephen right now but it can be in the future. Ana, you're the sole heir of the Clayton Empire." Luke says and watches me carefully for a reaction.

I freeze in my tracks. _What?!_

"What? Is this your idea of a joke?" I turn around and look down at Luke's form sitting on the couch. He _cannot_ be serious! _No!_

"I'm serious, Ana."

I pay attention to his facial features, hoping to find a sign that he's testing me, that this is a lie, that this isn't true. I don't find anything.

_Bloody hell!_

"Has he lost his damn mind? Has he gone mad?" I scream and throw my hands up in the air and look up to the damn ceiling.

I am _fuming._ I am _beyond_ fuming!

"Can you think of a better solution? Perhaps Carla is better suited?" Luke challenges me with a raised eyebrow. I roll my eyes.

"Have you lost your marbles? My mother would destroy an empire built by generations ever since the 1900s in less than two years. Surely you know that by now." I say through clenched teeth, thinking about how crazy my mother can get when she has her hands on a lot of money.

"So you agree that you're the best option." Luke pushes on.

"No, Luke. I don't agree. I'm not the best option out there." I say and shake my head. _This cannot be happening._

"Why? Because you studied almost three years of Business but ended up with a degree in English?"

"I cannot go back there, Luke." I say with a shake of my head as I put a few more meters between me and Luke as if he'll jump, grab me and take me to Stephen against my will.

"You don't have to. Get your own place. A castle if that's what you fancy. Sell whatever you want; get rid of memories that you don't want to remember. Come back to London and forget about all this crap with Grey. Let him chase ghosts until he's bored or fed up and be done with it. You don't need this, Ana. There's nothing here for you, love."

"There's nothing for me _anywhere_, Luke! Going back to London is not going to make me feel better about myself and what happened there. I'll just go back to the life that I could have had and know it will never be within my reach. I can't do that, Luke. I can't be her anymore. God is my witness, I want to be. But it's impossible."

"Ana, love, you still are that girl. You are the same innocent, wise beyond her years, smart, charismatic and joyful girl that I've met ten years ago. You just need to stop this madness and take a moment to think this through. This isn't you. This isn't a good move."

"No, I'm not. That girl is dead, Luke. She died along with her brother." I fire back.

"Ana -"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore! What is done is done! I've made my decision and it is final. I'm going to see Christian Grey and give him what he desires. If he still won't back off after all this and mind his own business, you are free to do whatever you came here to do. As a matter of fact, I won't even butt in. It'll be all up to you and I won't say a peep. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

"Do I even have a choice in the matter?" He asks with a pained voice. He knows all the shit I'm going to pull and it will all fall on his shoulders.

"Not really..." I reply with a shrug and a sad smile. I'm not happy about the situation, either. But if this is the only way Christian Grey is going to back off and stop looking for things he has no business looking for in the first place, I'm willing to do it in a heartbeat. I _know _it has to be done.

"Okay then." Luke says with a resigned tone and posture. I hate pulling rank on him but if it gets things done, I'm all for it.

"Good. Now let me get what I need and we'll pay Mr. Grey a visit. Make sure to call and set up an appointment. Unlike other people, I don't like to show up unannounced."

I put my game face on even though I have to sat that this recent discovery has left a very bitter taste in my mouth. But I have to get used to the idea that a relationship with Christian Grey is just another thing to add to my _failed to achieve_ list.

_Brilliant job, Christian Grey! You should get a medal for deceiving me._

* * *

**Well, there you have it. Let me know what you think! **

**See you soon ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here it is! The long-awaited chapter 5!**

**Sorry for the long wait, guys! Anyway, let's see what Anastasia has in store for our Christian!**

**Manalic did a pre-read on this but I made a few changes before posting it so if you find anything wrong, it's on me. Thank you for all your help, Manalic! And thank you, everyone, for all the reviews and faves and follows. I may not have the time to reply to all of them but I do read each and every one of them, make no mistake.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

CH 5.

The ride to Escala, where Christian Grey apparently lives, is silent. I'm going through all kinds of scenarios and all the possible outcomes while Luke is probably thinking about all the security issues that could arise. After quite some time, I stop thinking about anything and just sit back and admire the scenery that files by. It's no English countryside with cottages and hills filled with greenery but it's green enough to make me think of my adoptive country. I find myself wishing I could return there and just… disappear. Would it be easy? Could I just retreat somewhere and carry a simple life?

All my adult life – and early teens – I've lived with everything within my reach but I never took it for granted. I loved helping in the vegetable garden that the boarding school where I spent eleven years had. I loved getting my face, hands and clothes dirty with wet soil as I planted all kinds of plants, some of them meant to be eaten, others – just to be admired. I used to think I could do things on my own.

_Could I do that?_ Grow and raise my own food in a small town where no one would know that I carried the weight of the Clayton Empire upon my shoulders? Would physical labor keep away the demons that are always just a touch away or would I crash in a pile of my own ashes as I burn away each piece of me that gets infected with my past?

I keep reading all these stories about people overcoming their difficulties and grief and reconstructing themselves from scratch but I never got the feeling that I could be one of those people. A big victor. No. My victories are always small and always under the shadow of the next battle. The war is never over. Sometimes, the demons win and I'm forced to retreat, to fight again if I want to regain my lost sanity.

This is no way to live. _What have I done to deserve this? _

We arrive at Escala sometime around 4 PM and I leave Luke in the lobby in spite of his protests. I am not here for a confrontation and a bodyguard watching my back as if someone would jump me at any given time can only add to the tension in my muscles.

The man who always shadows Grey is waiting patiently as I confirm to Luke, for the third time in the last ten minutes, that I do _not_ want him to accompany me upstairs. He's still not convinced it is the best choice. Still, there's nothing he can do about it but be a good boy and keep his mouth shut. I am not in a good mood and I do not want to snap at him because of what's going on.

"Miss Steele, my name is Jason Taylor and I will be escorting you to Mr. Grey's penthouse. Please, follow me." He says with a cold and detached voice.

I follow him without further words and stare at my reflection as the doors to the elevator slide closed. I am wearing a white dress made of heavy cotton and that also happens to have full length sleeves that cover both my track marks and the scars on my wrists. My look is completed with a pair of killer black velvet pumps and a high, sleek, ponytail. No jewelry. No armor. I am trying to convey the fact that I'm not a threat. I did not come here to pick a fight with him. I did not come here to confront him. I came here to put most of my story out in the open, in hopes that he will be satisfied enough to stop digging through places he shouldn't be digging. _Well, he better be prepared for what he's going to find out,_ I think bitterly.

The elevator pings and, moments later, I'm in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers. On the walls there are paintings, everywhere. Taylor opens two double doors and the white theme continues through the wide corridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It's the main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for it. The far wall is glass and leads on to a balcony that overlooks Seattle.

To the right is an imposing 'U' shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It faces a state-of-the-art stainless steel – or maybe platinum for all I know – modern fireplace. The fire is lit and flaming gently. But the room is still _cold._ It lacks warmth that only the presence and passion of a person could provide.

On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. All white with dark wood worktops and a large breakfast bar which seats six. Clinical. _Cold._

Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by sixteen chairs. And tucked in the corner is a full size, shiny black grand piano. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, this apartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.

Even my flat is more welcoming than this and I didn't decorate it to entertain guests! Is this who he is? A collector of art – an expression of other people's emotions – without ever expressing his _own_ emotions? _He is a collector of data, of achievements and objects._ _Feelings don't have a place here, it seems._ I think to myself as I look around taking in the opulence and show of money. And I know quite a few things about opulence ever since I was a child.

_Concentrate, Anastasia! _My subconscious snaps at me and I know she's right.

I'm not here to admire the art he has bought. I'm not even here to admire him, even though I have to admit my memory has stored each and every detail about him.

Taylor opens the door to what I assume is Grey's office and I come face to face with the source of my angst: Christian Grey. A man this good looking should not be able to cause me so much pain. _What do you want to get out of all this, Christian Grey? Why does this particular chase give you the thrill you said you're after? What _is_ your plan? _I think to myself as I take in the Adonis in front of me.

"Mr. Grey." I say, my voice flat and empty, hiding the raging emotions mixed within me. It would be so easy to let the anger win. It would be so easy to start screaming in his face and demand answers and reasons. But where would that lead me? Would it make it easier to hide the sadness caused by his betrayal? Probably. But I would only replace sadness with anger. I would be exchanging one feeling for another. It wouldn't do me any good.

"Miss Steele."

He is calm, at least on the surface. It's Saturday but he is dressed in a three piece suit with a gray tie that matches his eyes. _His beautiful and hollow eyes. _My subconscious adds and I do my best to keep my thoughts from showing.

I had an entire speech prepared. I had it all planned out in my head but seeing him had knocked the wind from my lungs. I stare at him, curious about this man and why he did the things he's done. What kind of a person sends pretty flowers on one hand and does background checks on the other?

To be completely honest, it bothers me immensely that he felt like he had the right to try and go through my privacy like one goes through a drawer of underwear. It also surprised me. No one has attempted it so far and I guess that's the reason why I'm not at his throat by now. One could say I'm in a bit of a shock and they wouldn't be wrong.

We are facing each other like those cowboys, ready for a face off. It almost makes me crack a smile.

"Thank you, Taylor." Christian Grey says, dismissing his guard with a single look. When his attention is focused back on me, I breathe in and walk to the couch on my right. Grey makes no move to follow me, following me with his gaze instead. It's intense and frightening at the same time. Maybe leaving Luke down in the lobby wasn't such a good idea.

"What brings you by, Miss Steele? Your..._ friend_ wasn't very specific."

The way the word _friend_ rolled off his tongue, you would have thought Luke had done something against him. Maybe he had, while I was out. I wouldn't put it past Luke to tell Christian Grey a few words about his behavior. But how far did Luke go?

"It has come to my attention that you are... interested in my person." I say and rise from my seat on the couch. Sitting down while he pins me with those eyes makes me feel like tonight's dinner. Maybe I'm right.

"I'd say the flowers were a sign of that." Grey replies with a smirk. "Did you like them?"

I'd also smile if that would have been the only proof of his interest in me. Sadly, him and I know better and this walking around and circling each other like predators is not really my thing. I didn't come here for this and I'm not going to turn this into a fight about who's wrong and who's right.

"You ran a background check on me." I say softly as I analyze the spines of the books in his office. It's a very... eclectic mix.

The room is silent. I know he heard me. If he didn't, he would have asked me to repeat myself. Instead, he's thinking about what I have said, probably asking how I figured it out or how I found out. "I've been told that your employee, Mr. Welch, did a poor job of covering his tracks." I say and turn around to look at him.

Christian Grey is still as a statue. He looks a little frightened but it could be just another lie. It seems that lies are an important part of his life, at least from my point of view. I could be wrong, of course. But that look in his eyes... it tells me I'm not the only person in this room with a secret. Maybe that's why he's so interested in mine. Maybe my demons keep away his own.

I stare at him, waiting for a comment or anything that could explain this sudden interest in my two months of disappearance. A few moments later, he looks away.

If I didn't know better, I'd say Christian Grey feels bad for what he's done but I know it's not true. For him to be sorry, he's have to care about privacy. He'd have to know just how bothered I would be if I would ever find out. He'd have to know what can of worms his actions would open.

"I have to say, I'm disappointed and sad, Christian Grey." I say after a few moments of silence between us.

His eyes snap to my face. I look at him, trying to figure out how I'm supposed to act and what I'm supposed to say. Should I be angry? Should I scream and threaten? Should I start making demands and give deadlines? Should I hide away all emotions?

How should one act when the other person shows no sign of remorse?

"Ever since that interview, things like this happen and I really don't know why. I understand that I may have stepped a little out of line when I asked and told you all those things but I think you've surpassed me with flying colors by now."

He's silent. I'm beginning to think his silence is his defense mechanism. If you don't say anything, no one can hold anything against you. Silence _is_ golden, after all. After a few more minutes of silence, I've had enough and I have to open my mouth to say something or else I'm going to climb up the walls.

"I... I also wanted to thank you for... the bouquet and for last night. Your fast reaction saved me from a situation I didn't think would ever happen. It was very... convenient that you happened to be in the same location." I add with narrowed eyes but he doesn't move a muscle. Grey is watching me, watching my every move like a panther before it makes the final leap. Yet, he's silent.

His silence is making me feel uneasy. I focus my attention back to the books he has in his office.

"Well? Say something, dear God! Are you mute? Are you deaf?"

My voice is raising with each word and by the end of my tirade, he seems to have snapped out of his stupor.

"I'm glad I could stop your friend before it was too late. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him sooner."

His words make my mouth snap shut. I was ready to unleash another tirade.

"You're curious." I note.

"I'd lie if I'd say no."

_Now is the time. Bring it up again, Anastasia!_

"Is that why you ordered the background check on me? Pure curiosity?"

My words make Grey pale instantly. He's lost his dominant attitude in the fraction of a second.

"I had no idea that Mr. Welch did what he did."

"I think we both know that's a lie." I reply after a few moments of intense eye contact. "What I don't know is what made you think you were entitled to invade my privacy. What I don't know is why you would look into my kidnapping. It's under the investigation of the Scotland Yard." I point out and cross my arms in front of my chest, putting a barrier between us.

"Not anymore."

"So you _do_ know what he did. Did you think you could pick up where they left it by hacking into their server?" I ask, a bit amused and annoyed at the same time.

"I haven't done that." He quickly points out.

"I'm aware of that. Your employee did the dirty work on your command. Correct?"

"Miss Steele..."

"Mr. Grey, don't take me for an idiot." I cut him off and reply with a sigh. "I didn't come here for a confrontation. If that would have been my intention, I would be accompanied by my personal guard, Luke Sawyer. He's very anxious to have words with you."

"He's welcome to contact my head of security and CPO, Jason Taylor, anytime."

"I'll let him know."

Silence settles between us. I walk over to the couch and daintily take a seat, careful not to crease my dress as it rides higher, further exposing my legs. I can feel his burning gaze on my skin. My eyes meet his and I can almost swear his heartbeat is audible.

I reach into my bag and pull out the manila envelope that had been burning a hole into it. Inside, I have a Non-Disclosure Agreement and all the information that leaked into the media when I had been found. Nothing more, nothing less.

My stomach is turning at the thought of seeing her again but what would be the alternative? If he finds out, if he sees pictures, he'd have me bent at his will. I have to avoid that at all costs.

In a moment of bravery, I clutch the envelope, pull it out and lay the NDA before Grey with a flourish.

He looks at me with a knowing gaze. _Good!_

"If you want your curiosity satisfied, sign the NDA and you shall receive what Mr. Welch had been looking for."

He ignores the papers on his polished desk and stalks towards me with the grace of a feline.

Once he's a foot away from me, Grey stops. I can feel his body warmth and I'm seconds away from leaning towards him when he speaks and I snap out of my daze in an instant.

_What the bloody hell? Keep it together, Anastasia!_

"Are you sure, Anastasia?"

The way my name rolls off his tongue raises goose bumps on my skin. Damn him!

"You make it sound as if I have an alternative." I reply with a steady voice and an irritated look. His cocky attitude is loosing its appeal.

"There's always another way."

I know that. The other way would be to confide in him and pray to all the gods out there that he won't choose to use it against me. _No, thank you._

"Is that why you came into the coffee shop that Saturday? Is that why you sent me the flowers?"

"No! Of course not!"

Grey seems genuinely offended by this but I'm still not convinced so I continue my bombardment.

"When did you ask for the background check? Was it before our meeting in the cafe? And, please, be honest. I can always find out on my own fairly quick."

"Before."

Millions of questions pop from that simple word but I swallow them and only offer a brief nod.

Grey sighs and walks over to his desk where he picks up a pen and signs the NDA without even looking through it.

A sign of confidence from someone who broke my confidence. How ironic.

"There it is. The can of worms you've tried so hard to open, Mr. Grey."

I say as I throw the envelope that I have carried in my bag on his desk. The contents of the manila envelope scatter on the surface of his desk, gliding on the shiny surface.

Pictures of a skinny and dirty girl look back at me. Her pupils are so constricted that you can barely see the black and she's in withdrawal. Her arms are a mess of busted veins and hematomas, some of them a mean purple color, some of them have a mellow greenish tint to them. And her wrists… bloody, puss oozing from the circular wounds of the cable ties used to keep them bound to a chair. It's a disgusting scene that challenges even those with a strong stomach.

She looks nothing like me. And, yet, she's the biggest part of me. She's the strongest part of me, testing my resistance day after day. She's the epitome of the demons that I'm struggling to exorcise each day. But she's still me and she needs help. She needs me to think about her, to try and heal her, to try and make her _better_. I can't let her go. I can't let her rot in the darkness. I can't turn my back to her. I can't. I want to. Oh, God! How I want to! But it's not possible.

I retreat further into the confines of my mind and focus my attention back on the man that is forcing me to face that shell of a girl. He's staring at his desk in a stupor, eyes wide and pale as a sheet of paper. _This _is what you wanted to know. Knowledge is a two faced blade.

"Here is my past, Christian Grey. All of it. Each and every year accounted for. Pictures, medical records, everything you wanted. You've already seen some of it but a big part is not for the public eye. I'm the only one who has all of this so if any part of it comes out, I'll know exactly _who_ leaked it." I say and lock eyes with his. He nods weakly and I take that as a promise that he'll keep all this to himself.

I think ten minutes have passed and Christian Grey has yet to utter a word. He stared at the pictures for 5 minutes solid, stood up, poured a healthy glass of bourbon - I think - and is now staring at the pictures once again.

I'm itching to get out of this office and run away from this crap. With a sigh, I get up from my seat on the couch, drawing his attention.

"If that is all, I shall be going now."

"Wait." He says as soon as I've turned to face the door to his office.

I turn around slowly.

"Yes?"

It takes him two long strides to almost invade my private space. I take a step back involuntarily.

"Who did this to you?"

"I don't know." I reply with a flat and hollow voice. I don't want to think about it more than I already have. My demons are already testing their restrains. I'm not sure how long I can keep them chained and this conversation isn't doing me any favors in that department.

"You're lying." Grey remarks and tilts his head to the side, watching me, waiting for an answer he's not going to get.

I keep silent.

"Why are you defending those animals?" He asks softly, his gaze unnerving.

When he makes a move to touch me, I cringe back.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you."

His voice is soothing, mesmerizing. Like a siren's song. _This man is the devil_. My subconscious whispers.

Mentally, I agree. However, I take another step back, my back flush against the door. Oddly, my body doesn't react to the lack of personal space but I'm not counting my blessings just yet. The panic attack could begin any time now.

"Anastasia, who was it?"

I shake my head.

"I was drugged. I don't remember." I murmur and stare at his lips. They are enticing. Every part of him is enticing.

"Try to remember." He whispers and almost closes the gap between us. I can almost taste his breath on my lips.

I swallow nervously.

"Maybe I don't want to remember." I whisper and look away from his smoldering gray eyes.

Oh so gently, he grabs my chin and turns my face towards him once again. He's towering over me, an inch away from my face.

Deep down, I know I should bat his hands away, turn around and walk out of this room but I can't make my body cooperate. He's intoxicating. His cologne, his presence, the look in his eyes... it's all pinning me here, in this very spot. My skin tingles from the electric current that runs through me each time our skin touches.

"Tell me." He says softly but his attitude is getting on my nerves. My eyes narrow.

"Are you _ordering_ me?" I ask, my voice a little louder than intended, probably because my patience has reached its limits, education be damned! One can only be polite for so long before he loses his composure.

"You need to tell me." Grey presses, unaware that I've reached my boiling point.

_Well, he's about to find out._

"You seem to be under the impression that I have to justify myself to you, Mr Grey. You're wrong." I hiss and turn around, reaching for the handle of the door as soon as I've retrieved my bag.

"This conversation is not over, Miss Steele!" He hisses and grabs my arm, making me collide with his chest. I push at him and he releases me instantly.

"Don't you dare touch me without my permission, Mr. Grey. I'm not a rag doll you can twist and turn at your will. Back off!" I say, my voice once again ringing in his living room, bouncing off the walls and creating an ugly echo.

"Miss Steele!"

"What? What could you possibly want more than what I've already given you, Mr. Grey?"

"Respect! You are, after all, in my home, Miss Steele! This conversation is not over!" He roars, inches away from my body.

His breath washes over my face and I'm momentarily frozen to the spot. _I'm not scared._ I look blankly back at him. The buzz that surrounds me when he is near is blocking any other sound that Taylor or anyone else could make, creating a bubble filled with negative energy. However, I know that he won't touch me. I know he won't harm me. Call it intuition or whatever but I just… _know._

"Respect you? Is that what you did when the doors to the elevator closed and you turned around and dug into my past just because you could?! Don't preach something you're not applying, Mr. Grey!" I roar back at him as soon as I see that he's finished his piece. My words stun him and he only gapes at me. "Last night's events only solidified my belief that you have no respect whatsoever for people's personal space. Well, guess what, I'm not your rag doll that you can twist and turn whichever way you choose. I have free will and I make good use of it on a daily basis. The fact that I _chose_ not to use all the power that's at my fingertips is just that: a choice! Make no mistake, I could crush you like you've done with many others. But that would imply I waste my energy and time on someone who isn't worth a second of my time." I spit at him through a hazy red veil. I'm reaching my boiling point. _Just a few more inches…_ my demons sneer and curl their lips, baring their teeth, poised for attack.

He pales further with each word that leaves my mouth but regains composure as soon as I finish speaking. _This man is as mercurial as it gets!_

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" Grey screams, his face turning a dark shade of red but the scared look is still present in his eyes. He's afraid. He knows I could carry out my threats with ease. _He did a bit of homework, didn't he?_ I think sarcastically as I glare at him.

"News flash: I don't either!" I scream back just as loud, shaking with anger.

"And yet, here you are!"

I snort.

"You think I'm here to _report_ back to you, Mr. Grey? In what fucked-up version of this reality are you actually living? You're clearly delusional! You should see a bloody shrink!" I say and laugh in his horrified face. My laugh is cold, maniacal and lifeless, a mockery to all his efforts to contain me. "I'm here to put an end to this sick mind game that you seem so fond of. You don't know me! My level of tolerance to this type of crap is _zero_. And yet, this situation has been going on for almost a week now. I think that is more than enough! You've had your fun. Stop stalking me. Stop approaching me. Just stop! If you don't, I'll be forced to take legal action against you, Mr. Grey. And I'm willing to bet Stephen Clayton's entire fortune that bad press is not something you want." I say with a sickly sweet smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

His clenching jaw is the only answer I need. I take one last look at him, sin personified, and turn around on my heel, breezing past Taylor and a stunned blonde woman – _of course she's blonde!_

"Goodbye, Grey!" I shout over my shoulder as I head towards the elevator, with Taylor in tow, and watch the doors close, hiding Grey's face from me.

Damn him and his megalomaniac tendencies! _And damn him for making me think of him._

I stare at my reflection. The woman staring back is cold and collected. She has fulfilled her mission and can only stand back and wait to see if her efforts will pay off. Either way, Christian Grey is no longer my concern. If he continues to play this game, I can either unleash Luke upon him or take it to the authorities. I'm sure no one would want Stephen Clayton's step-daughter to feel unsafe during her stay in the USA. Stephen is, after all, friends with many high ranking people in this country, the Washington governor included.

From my vantage point, I can see Taylor's profile from the corner of my eye. He's studying me in the reflection of the elevator doors, his whole body tense and ready to speak but he refrains. I turn to my left and raise an eyebrow, challenging him. He can feel my eyes on him, my attention focused solely on him and after a few moments, he starts to play with his tie under the burn of my gaze. Jason Taylor has something on his mind but he won't share it. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and his stance has a small amount of pride but he still won't speak.

_Suit yourself._ I mentally shrug and stop looking at him.

As soon as the doors to the elevator open, Luke appears in my line of vision and carefully studies my face, looking for signs of distress. Finding none, he smiles and beckons me closer. I step into his personal space and circle his waist with my arms, squeezing lightly.

"Take me away from this place, Luke." I murmur into Luke's chest, inhaling his comforting scent.

"Gladly, _ma petite_. Come." He takes my hand and leads me to the underground parking lot. I turn slightly and nod at Taylor and receive a small nod in return. The simple action makes me smile brightly and I follow Luke with renewed energy and a slight bounce in my steps. I feel like the dark cloud that's been following me around for the last few days has finally departed, allowing the sunlight to wash over me and offer its warmth.

Deep down, I know that my actions may have made Christian Grey even more interested in my past but I hope that, for his sake and mine, he'll back off. _It could be just wishful thinking, you know, _my subconscious warns me but I'm far too happy to find it within myself to care.

_What is it about this man? He brings darkness with him. A dark, perfect angel. _

_A deadly combination._ My subconscious whispers back, making my skin break out in goose bumps. A deadly combination indeed. And yet, there's something about him that draws me in, in spite of the fact that I _know_ I shouldn't come closer. He's like a vivid colored spider and I'm the bug attracted by its colors. But the thing is, there are no colors surrounding Christian Grey. It's just darkness.

My darkness is attracted to his darkness. My own demons are fighting their restrains so that they could inspect his. I suspect that's the exact thing that draws him in to me even though I make no move to make him come closer.

I want him away from me even though my body craves him. His presence is like a drug and I know I should stay away and avoid an addiction. _An addiction to a person is worse than an addiction to a substance, Ana._ Will's voice rings in my head and I close my eyes and do my best to focus on something else other than Christian Grey. Will is right. _And an addiction to someone who might be as fucked up as you are is even worse, Anastasia._ My subconscious whispers.

True.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to know your thoughts on this.**

**I already have chapter 6 written so... see you Friday! Who's excited? :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, everyone!**

**As promised, chapter 6 has arrived!**

**Thank you all for the lovely words and support! It means a lot to me that you take time to read this story!**

**Everyone keeps asking why Christian would feel threatened by Stephen Clayton and I guess this is my chance to explain it since the people asking this are guests and I can't reply directly. **

**Stephen Clayton is old money. He has connections and business ties that surpass Christian's and it kind of comes with the territory since Stephen is been in this _business_ longer than Christian. That's not to say that Christian is this little lamb compared to Stephen buuut... let's just say that there would be one hell of a battle. Let's hope Christian will behave and it won't come down to that... although we _do_ know that he doesn't exactly have a clean record when it comes to pissing people off. And he has managed to piss off Ana. Bad move, Christian! Bad move!**

**So, back to the action. In this chapter, we'll get a closer look on how our girls are doing and how their friendship is surviving all this drama. Kate, being the usual airhead and sometimes selfish and self-centered, will prove, once again, that boys sometimes _do_ get in the way of friendship but I forgive her... we are talking about Elliot here. She did her part in cheering Ana up so be gentle with her, please? :D**

**Anyway, enough with all the talking!**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

Ch 6.

By the time we are back home, I am sleepy and hungry and drained. Luke orders some Shepherd's Pie, correctly guessing my mood and my need for some comfort food. As much as I want to think about what I've just done, I know thinking about it won't change anything. My decision has been made and what's left is only what I choose to do from now on. Thinking about the past is not going to do me any good. I'll just end up living in it, analyzing each step I've ever taken, missing what's here, in the present.

I take a scalding hot shower, meant to wash away all my worries and warm my bones but it doesn't help sort my thoughts. I watch as the foam from my body wash circles the drain and disappears. _If only my past would go away as easily,_ I think sourly. Hopefully, Grey will read everything I gave him and his curiosity will be satisfied enough to leave me alone.

_And he won't choose to use it against me._

But _my_ demons won't ever leave me alone. Is that how Grey feels? Those blazing gray eyes hide secrets, memories of past events that he's running away from. He's only pushing away the inevitable: the moment when he will have to face them, like I did. When that moment comes, the only thing that will matter will be his emotional strength and his ability to acknowledge his fears. As far as I could tell, he's doing the exact opposite: he's trying to buy himself more time. He's distracting himself with work, with his obsession of knowing everything about me… the list could be endless. But that's all they are: distractions; and those distractions will only get him so far. They come with a price: reality always retaliates when you try to push it away. Reality doesn't go away because you stop believing in it. Facts and memories don't take another meaning unless you try hard to understand their initial meaning.

_I know that from a personal experience. _

The thought makes me sad, oddly. He is such a handsome man and, paired with that brilliant mind, he is almost perfection. But there is no such thing as perfection and those demons that he keeps locked away surround him like black mist, blocking out the light. If I were just another normal girl, with no past to taint me and to take as reference for everything that is going on around me, I probably wouldn't have seen the darkness that surrounds Grey. And even if I did see it, I would have probably tried to help, to get him out of that darkness.

But I'm not a normal girl. I'm living in my very own brand of darkness. The scars on my arms and wrists are proof of that. So I see, I know, I feel what he's feeling. I've been there, in that state of mind, thinking I could never break through and find my way. I, just like him, have been, once upon a time, one step away from giving up and jumping into the abyss, to let it suck me in and give in to sweet oblivion. I am sure of that. I am sure that Grey has something hidden. But it's not my place to go looking for his demons. No. I can respect boundaries.

There is this deep feeling inside me, this pull that draws me to him whenever he is near. I'm fighting it. I'm fighting it because I don't want to get sucked in that black mist. _I'm not going back there ever again. Not even for Grey._ As much as I'd like to help him, I can't. He has to find his own way. He has to _want_ to find his own way. And that's no easy task. The beginning is always the hardest. It's the point when you feel hopeless and you're one step away from giving up completely. It's only a moment. Just a simple, frightening decision. _Oh, but what a decision it is! _It's the catalyst of everything that follows.

"Ana?" Luke's voice stops me in my reverie and I jump slightly at the sound of his voice. I got lost inside my head, among memories that I would do anything to forget. I close my eyes and breathe through my mouth in an attempt to get myself out of those dark corners. I grab a towel and try to focus on the movements of my muscles as they tense and relax, push and pull.

"Yes?" I reply from the bathroom as I towel myself dry and wrap my hair in a turban.

"Food is here. So is Katherine Agnes Kavanagh." He says through the door.

"Three minutes and I'm out, I promise."

"Good. She's too inquisitive for my taste." Luke says and I detect a trace of a smile in his voice. I smile back, aware of the fact that he can't see me. _That's Kate Kavanagh, Luke!_ I pull on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting sweater and I'm out of my bedroom and in my living room in record time.

Kate wastes no time with pleasantries and jumps on me like a panther on its prey.

"Ana! How are you?" Her voice is fevered, anxious and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I've even said hello.

Crap… I have to deal with Kate's persistence and tenacity while keeping my own emotions in check.

Where's Luke when you need him?

Oh, yes... he bailed.

I plaster a smile on my face and put on my big girl pants. Time to deflect and play the _nothing happened _card that I use on occasions such as this one. I can only hope it will work.

"Hello to you too, Kate." I say as calmly as I can. I really don't have the energy to relive last night just after I've confronted Grey and talking about it with Kate is only going to make my mood even sourer than it already is. The memory of my panic attack is too fresh in my mind and my demons are already pulling at their restraints. One more tug and they could break loose.

"That's all? No 'Kate, I'm sorry for scaring you like that.'? Thank God I'm young and not a smoker or I would have had a freaking heart attack! Ana, what did Jose do? I swear to God, I'll have that boy for dinner if he touched a strand of your hair!" She says with a serious tone. I believe her.

"Kate, I'm fine." I try to convince her but it isn't working. The look on her face tells me she isn't going to let this go too soon, not until she finds what she came looking for. And what she came for is off limits.

"You didn't seem fine at the bar. What happened, Ana? You had a panic attack and Grey was so scary. I thought he was going to murder Jose with that glare. I'm telling you, if looks could kill, Jose would have been dead and buried by the time I came out of the bar with Elliot. And the way he looked at you… like you had the damn plague but couldn't make himself stay away."

"Elliot?" I say with a genuine curiosity lacing my voice.

_He could prove to be the best distraction yet._

"Oh… I'm sorry. I forgot you didn't meet him yesterday. Elliot Grey. Christian Grey's older brother. They were both at the bar and I danced with him until Jose came back to the table, looking like he saw a ghost, followed by Grey's bodyguard –"

"Yeah, I remember." I cut her off, not wanting to hear a play-by-play of last night, and rub my temples furiously. A big headache is seconds away and I try my best to keep it away but it's not working. The mere thought of last night has my skin prickling and my stomach churning. I don't need another episode that's so close to the previous one. _One more tug… _my demons whisper.

Kate senses something is wrong and frowns.

"Ana… I'm sorry. It's just… you're my friend and I care about you. I know we don't know each other for long but you're a very dear person to me. Seeing you like this, carrying this burden, it pains me. I understand if you don't want to share certain things with me and I'll try my very best to steer away from topics that you don't want to touch but I _need_ to know that you're okay. That we're okay. Last night showed me just how little I know about your past and that's something I intend to rectify."

There's a hint of desperation in Kate's voice and I hug her tightly. The hug is not only for her benefit but for mine also. All this talk about my past and my panic attack has made me very clingy. Physical connections with other people are hard to come by anyway.

"It's fine, Kate. I'm fine. We're fine. Last night was a bust and I'm truly sorry. Jose took me by surprise, is all." I try to appease her with an evasive answer but it falls short off its target.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you didn't answer my question, missy! What did Jose do?" Kate asks with a glare that makes me gulp in a mouthful of air just so I can keep those black spots from appearing in my vision. _She's scary. And scary Kate is never good news._ Okay, let's go for honesty with a hint of avoidance.

"He… he tried to kiss me. I tried pushing him away but I couldn't get him to release me. I panicked. Grey was around and Jose released me when he saw him. Then Grey also grabbed me and… I guess I just lost it." I half whisper the last part and look away from Kate's scrutinizing eyes.

Normally, I'd thank all the gods and saints out there when Kate is silent and does not ask me tons of questions about my odd reactions and sometimes standoffish behavior but not today. Today, Kate is after answers and is currently thinking about what I have just told her. I busy myself with a kettle full of hot water just to keep my hands and mind occupied but it's not really working.

"Tea?" I ask with a low voice as I pour myself a healthy cup.

"No, thanks. Not even tea can calm down my nerves right now. Still, I'm gonna let this part of our conversation slide… for now. What's with this Luke Sawyer guy following you around and sleeping here?"

"Oh, Luke's my bodyguard. I've known him since I was twelve years old."

"Why would you need a bodyguard? Are you famous in the UK or something like that? Stalkers watching your every move?" She says with a smile meant to let me know she finds the idea impossible.

My mind instantly goes to Christian Grey but I keep my mouth shut.

"I'm not famous but the man who had been my step-father for more than fourteen years is. Have you heard of Stephen Clayton?" I ask with a tentative glance in Kate's direction.

It takes a few seconds but a light bulb flashes over Kate's head and her mouth pops open, forming a perfect 'o'.

"_That_ Stephen Clayton was your step-father?!" she whisper-shouts.

"Yes." I say as I take a sip of my scalding tea. _Anything to help me escape this talk._

"That man's richer than God! Forget Grey, billionaire extraordinaire from Seattle. We're talking the big leagues here! Stephen Clayton could buy the whole city if he wants to. He owns banks, media, has backed up senators that are now in office here in the US. He's _everywhere_! My dad has dealt with some media companies that your step-father owns and he didn't stop talking about it for at least a week. He was _that_ impressed – and you know how dad is. And he only caught a glimpse of the big picture.

"And you… you went to freaking Oxford! I saw your transcripts!" My eyes must be wide as saucers because Kate rushes to explain how she got her hands on that kind of information. "I had to compile a list of our best students last week and I came across your records. I'm the only one who had the clearance to see them, don't worry. I didn't say anything because I got the flu and then you were acting so weird. Why didn't you finish your last year, Ana? What happened so bad that you fled the UK, your family and bodyguard included?"

_She's in full detective mode. Deflect!_

"Kate, I don't want to talk about it. It's in the past and that's all I'm going to say about it."

But she's not letting this go. She's got her teeth into this _story_ and she's not letting go until she finds out everything there is to find out. And there's a lot where that came from. But the implications of Kate finding out what happened now that she's seeing Elliot Grey are too vast and unpredictable, even if I would want to tell her. _And I don't._

"Is that right? Then why did you have that panic attack last night?" Kate challenges me but I refuse to bite. I shake my head and keep my lips closed.

"Ana… you know me. I wouldn't insist on this if I didn't care about you. Something is wrong, I can _feel_ it. You're not a party girl, you don't drink, you don't smoke… but I saw the track marks on your arms and that image clashes with everything I know about you. You're afraid of being left alone in a room with a man but you're okay if there are more people. And Luke asked me about some pills last night. I never saw you take anything, not even a damn painkiller when you sprained that ankle last winter. You were so out of it that Luke had to carry you and I had to open the door and make sure you got home safely. I thought Grey was going to have a coronary! Ana, you had to be _sedated_!" Kate shouts, making me cringe.

I open my mouth to interrupt her but she's on a roll and there's no turning back.

"In all this time I've known you, the only parent I heard you talk about is Ray. Never once did I hear you say something about a mother, a step-father, a brother or a sister. You've pushed everyone away, haven't you?" She almost whispers the last part, like she's piecing together an invisible puzzle before my very eyes and there's nothing I can do to stop her from seeing the whole picture. _My life._

She's so tenacious, and she wants to know – in detail. Well, she's going to have to curve that will of knowing everything, especially when it comes to my past.

"You shelter yourself from people, Ana. When I first met you, you had this deep sadness wrapped around you even when your smile was the brightest. Yeah, you've changed a lot this past year but, sometimes, I still get glimpses of that girl. She's still there. You may choose to ignore it but it's still there, Ana! It's eating away at you. And I can't just stand by and watch as that happens!"

"STOP!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

Time feels like it has stopped from flowing, like sand stuck in one half of the hourglass. Kate is speechless, staring at me with wide eyes as Luke barrels into the room, looking around but finding nothing but me and Kate.

"Ana?" Luke asks, cautious. He keeps his distance and doesn't make any sudden moves that could scare me. He treats me like I'm made of glass. _You _are_made of glass, Anastasia. Always one step away from your breaking point, _the voice of my subconscious replies without missing a beat. I can no longer ignore her snide remarks, mostly because they are always true. What I _can_ do is try to stop this conversation before I lose whatever grasp on my mind I still have left. _Those demons have to stay locked away!_

"I'm fine. Kate here wanted to prove a point." I say through clenched teeth with a pointed glare in Kate's direction. She purses her lips but keeps silent. It's not like there's anything else that she might want to add. _She is right_. My subconscious tilts her chin in Kate's direction but I ignore her. My past is not up for discussion with anyone, Kate included.

"Are you sure, Ana?" Luke asks, weary of my reaction.

"Yes." I say with a calm and detached voice even though I'm anything but.

He retires to his room but not before throwing me another glance, just to be on the safe side. I wait until he's out of the room and turn around to face Kate.

"Kate, I'm only going to say this once so listen carefully: I love you to pieces but my past is not up for discussion. Luke will stay here in the USA for as long as I will stay and I haven't decided about that, _yet._ As soon as I know something, I'll let you know. For the time being, I just want my friend who treats me like a normal person. I know you saw the track marks on my arms and witnessed my panic attack from last night. I also know that finding out that I'm related to Sir Stephen Clayton doesn't put me in the _normal people_ category but could you try?" I ask with a collected demeanor.

The need to get this under control is burning my insides.

"Yes, Ana. Of course." She says as she nods frenetically, like a child that's asked if he believes in Santa. _I've scared her._

"Good. I was going to have dinner before you came but we could go out, if you prefer. I could use a few hours away from this place." I murmur the last sentence as I gather my tea cup and pour the rest of my tea down the drain.

"That sounds like a great idea. Will you come alone?"

"I think we both need a girl's night out after all this intense crap so we need a driver." I reply with a smile and hang my head in shame, thinking of my earlier reaction.

"Ana… just… know that if you ever need someone to just listen, I'm here. I am your friend. And if you need your friend to get you out of the house, get you drunk and make you forget about yesterday…" _and today, _I add mentally, "… then that's exactly what I'm going to do. So, here's the plan: we meet in one hour here, after we've put on some really hot clothes and make ourselves as pretty as we can get. How's that?" Kate asks with a smile that could easily blind me. I check the clock on the kitchen wall and turn around to face Kate. It's only 7 PM. _We could work with that._

"Sure." I reply with a smile, really looking forward to some normal time. _God knows I've been through hell and back in these past few days._

"Great. See you at 8."

And she's off, leaving me smiling in her wake even though we had a really exhausting conversation.

My conversation with Kate has been cathartic and I have to admit that it feels good to know that Kate knows about my past, even if it's just half of the story. I'm not sure she could handle the other half. Or our friendship, for that matter. _Would she be disgusted if she saw the pictures I've shown Grey?_ I ask myself and the voice of my subconscious wastes no time to reply. _You can never know the answer to that question until you show her._

But I'm not ready for that yet. It may take some time before I would even _entertain_ the idea of telling someone else. Giving Grey all that information has left me weary and some time will have to pass before I would do it again with someone else.

Luke pokes his head in after a few minutes have passed.

"Everything okay, love?"

"Yeah…"

"You don't seem too convinced about that."

I shrug and plop on the couch, raising my knees to my chest. Luke comes and takes a seat next to me. His presence is comforting and I bask in his body heat for a few moments.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Are you going deaf, love? I'm sure the whole complex heard my screams. How could you miss that?" I tease him with a small smile on my lips.

"I wasn't talking about your conversation with the cunning Miss Kavanagh. I'm talking about your meeting with Christian Trevelyan-Grey."

I shrug. I don't particularly want to discuss it. And if I wanted to, what would be the point of it all? Talking about Christian Gray won't get me inside his head. It would only get _him _further inside _my_ head.

"What's there to talk about? I gave him what he wanted and warned him not to _accidentally_ leak it to the press or there will be hell to pay. The end." I say softly as I think back to my _conversation_ with Grey. He seemed genuinely shocked by the pictures he saw. I can only hope he'll stay shocked like that and keep it to himself. _Hope is all we have left, Anastasia._ My subconscious whispers, her voice pained.

My eyes wander around, taking in my surroundings, the only place where I've ever come out victorious other than in William's office. I have to part with this place, with all the memories and all the battles with my demons. All the ash on my shoulders is nothing more than a proof that I can fight them and win. But it's also a proof of everything that I had to let go, of everything I had to lose so that I could gain something else in return. _Those were strategic losses, _my mind reminds me.

_Did you win all you wanted to win, Anastasia?_ William's voice rings through my head. I remember answering that I didn't want to win anything that wasn't already mine. But that also meant losing parts of me; parts of me that I had worked so hard to create and reinforce. _They're all gone, now…_

"Ana?"

Luke's voice breaks me out of my memories. His presence is the lighthouse that points in the direction of the shore. The problem is, I'm on a really big ship and I can't approach the rocky shore without the risk of a shipwreck. Am I prepared to swim to the shore of should I drown? I'm undecided…

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I look at Luke. _Really _look at him. He has wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. They're barely there but I can see them perfectly. His clear blue eyes hold a sadness and I know part of it is because of me. Part of me knows it's because of my attitude and decisions. I trust this man with my life. I trust him to know me better than I know myself in many circumstances. He is one of the very few people I've allowed to get into my head. _And the only one who's currently here._

I nod with a smile on my face. With him being here, I may not be perfect but I'm in the best emotional state I could ask for.

"Are you still going out with Miss Kavanagh?"

"Oh, yes." I reply with a smile and make my way to my room where I stare for at least ten minutes at the contents of my closet.

I grab a black corset with lace that covers me up to my clavicle and down to my wrists and pair it with a flared neon green skirt that hits mid-thigh. Studded black leather sandals and my usual leather cuffs complete my look. My make-up is heavy, almost Goth-like, making my eyes pop like the light at the end of a very long and very dark tunnel and my hair is loose from the usual ponytail, falling in soft waves down my back.

I look like a Goth doll. I look like myself, before the _incident._

I smile at my reflection.

_I like it._

At ten to nine, Kate and I step into the Marble Bar at the Heathman Hotel for some drinks and some food before we go in search of a good club to dance our asses off.

The Marble Bar is a very fancy place, very similar to the places I used to frequent during my college years at Oxford. Surprisingly, the bar is almost full. Considering that it's a Saturday night, it shouldn't really come as a surprise. Portland is a nice city but when it comes to places where the snobs can meet, the offer is less than the demand. Then again, I am here so what does that say about me?

Kate and I take a seat at the bar and we start toasting and drinking as if there is no tomorrow. I need the alcohol to numb me, to help me pretend and avoid the consequences of my actions if only for a few hours. I need a break from my mind and there's nothing else than can do a better job at that other than alcohol. _There's something else that can numb you, Anastasia._ My demons whisper sweetly into my head as I swallow down the last of my dry Martini. _Oh, I remember just how _numbing _it can get, don't you worry._ I mentally answer them and focus my attention on Kate who, apparently, is trying to get my attention.

"I need to use the restroom." She says and then tries to walk a straight line to the loo but is failing terribly. I bite back a smirk. Kate Kavanagh is drunk before I manage to get a nice buzz. Now, that's a shocker!

"I'll have a whiskey and a refill for the beautiful lady." I hear from my right and I turn my attention to the man that just sat on the seat next to me. I am met by a pair of dark blue eyes, paired with a mop of sandy blonde hair. He is stunning, dressed in a nice suit that fits him like a glove. It's obvious that he works out. Nice wrapping… but I can't help but wonder what's hiding underneath. I examine him for a beat longer than necessary. He notices.

"Thank you." I say softly, my voice clear and coherent, as I continue to look straight into his eyes. He smiles and his eyes have those crinkles that tell if a smile is genuine or not. It is. _Interesting._

"Thank you for allowing me the opportunity."

"I'm merciful like that." I say and take a sip of my drink to hide my smirk.

"I've noticed." He deadpans.

"Really?" I ask, genuinely curios to see how his mind works.

It's been too long since I've paid attention to any man. _This should be interesting._ My subconscious notes and takes a seat, ready to analyze everything there is to analyze. I'm willingly testing my limits to see if I'm able to sustain a normal conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Granted, we are not alone in a room but it's still a starting point... _right?_

"Yes. You've been sitting here with your friend and didn't pay attention to any of the men who were _more_ than interested. Does this mean I'm lucky?" He asks with a teasing smile.

"I don't know. Are you?" I tease back with a smirk.

"I usually am." He acquaintances with a slight nod and a timid smile. His laid-back attitude puts me at ease and I return his smile.

"Do you have a name, Mr. Lucky?"

"I do. Mark." He says and holds his hand. To my surprise, Mark doesn't shake my hand, opting to kiss it instead. _Pulling out all the moves, aren't we?_

"Pleasure to meet you, Mark." I whisper and retrieve my hand to grab the stem of my glass, swirling the liquid around, careful not to spill it.

"I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name." He says and smiles wider, showing his dimples. _Oh my!_

"Anastasia." I breathe, hypnotized by those cute dimples. My brain is officially on vacation!

"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He says and I snort in my glass.

"Do you always use cheesy lines like the previous one?" I ask and cock my head to the side as a smile finds its way to my lips.

"Only when I have someone to impress." He answers without missing a beat. _Is that so?_

"You have to step up your game for that to happen, love."

He smiles and shakes his head as if he can't believe my words. I can't believe my courage considering the fact that I'm alone, chatting with a stranger, without Luke to keep an eye out for me. Then again, I am 22 years old and it's not like a need a babysitter. I just need a little bit more confidence in the world around me. And what better way to cultivate that confidence than to talk to people without thinking every five seconds that they could take a bite out of me?

"So, what do you do for a living here in the US, Mark?"

"Business. More like managing family business. I'm from Seattle actually." He says with a slight nod as his cheeks turn a little pink. _He's shy!_

"Well, it's nice to see you aren't stuck up and live in an ivory tower with no interest to mingle with the rest of the mortals even though you _are_ in a very snobby location." I say with a wink. _Yes, I am thinking about Christian Grey._

"Well, you are also here, Anastasia. What does that say about you?"

_Whoa! You give as good as you get, don't you?_

"The jury's still out." I deadpan. "For the moment, I just want to get a good buzz."

"I can work with that." Mark says and grins.

Our drinks arrive and he launches into some very funny stories that have me gripping my stomach from all the laughs. I'm really enjoying my time with Mark. He's funny and entertaining without wanting to get all touchy. This is a _huge_ bonus.

"So, Mark, what are you doing so far away from Seattle?" I ask and check my phone. Kate's taking too long at the loo. _Should I go and look for her?_ I look nervously to my left but there is no blonde walking in this direction.

"Some boring family stuff. I drew the short stick so here I am." He replies and trails off. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes; my friend. She's taking an awful lot to come back." I frown and try to keep myself from checking in the direction of the restrooms every two seconds.

"Maybe she met someone on her way back." He offers with a smile and I smile back even though I am a little worried since Kate was a little wobbly on her feet when she left. Unfortunately, her clutch is still in my possession so there's no way I can call her and find out what is going on. I take out my phone from my clutch and text Luke to have a look around for her.

Mark and I chat a little bit longer before I see Luke in my line of vision, sans Kate. _Where could she be?_ I ask myself as I look around but nothing draws my attention. _Damn it, Kate._

"Mark, I'm sorry but it seems like my friend can't find her way back. Excuse me for a few moments." I murmur and head straight for Luke without waiting for Mark's reply. Luke also makes a beeline for me and we meet in the middle of the lobby.

"Well?" I prompt him a beat later.

"I think she's in the company of Elliot Grey." Luke replies but doesn't look convinced by his words.

I narrow my eyes.

"What do you mean you _think_?" I hiss under my breath.

"I mean, I couldn't really see her face and her black dress isn't really uncommon, like your skirt is. Someone who looked like her is kissing Elliot Grey as we speak but I'm not sure and I don't want to um… intrude." Luke says as he scratches the back of his neck.

_Oh! Well, that explains is. _

"Oh! Well that solves our problem." I whisper and look at my shoes, trying to figure out a plan. Should I drop by uninvited and introduce myself when they could be lip-locked? _Well, better to interrupt than see her body at the coroner tomorrow._

"Anastasia? Is everything alright?" Mark pops out of nowhere with both my clutch and Kate's. _Bless him!_ I turn to reply but Luke's amused face makes me stop for a beat before I answer. I narrow my eyes at him before I turn my attention back to Mark.

"I don't know. Mark, this is my bodyguard and best friend, Luke Sawyer. Luke, this is Mark. Do you gentlemen mind if I go and see if my friend is OK?"

Neither of them replies, too caught up in their handshake and visual assessment. _Great! _I can only hope these two boys can play nice for a little while. Luke is known for scaring shitless any man who wants to get close to me. _Good luck, Mark._

I turn on my heel and walk in the direction Luke pointed earlier and, in no time, I come face to face with Kate and Elliot Grey, caught in a serious make out session. _Seriously, Kate?! Get a room!_

I clear my throat but nothing happens so I settle for the next best thing: the element of surprise.

"Seriously, Kate?!" I shout and both of them jump as if the other one's touch or proximity burned their skin. _Good!_

"Ana!" Kate squeaks as her face and chest turn scarlet.

"The one and only!" I say and make a grand gesture of spreading my arms. "Glad you could remember we went out _together_, to have some _girl time_!" I say with a fake smile to show her just how pleased I am by her behavior.

"Sorry." She mutters and looks away.

"Yeah… so are we still on for later or should I go alone with my date?" I ask, irritated that she didn't bother to let me know that she had met Elliot and decided to spend some quality time with him.

"Your date?" Her head snaps in my direction once again. Elliot Grey also seems interested.

I huff and roll my eyes.

"You're not the only one who's managed to get some company in the last few minutes." I say, my eyes narrowing as I take Elliot Grey in. He looks just as fuckable as his brother and they're not even related so I can't really blame Kate for falling under his spell. _Must be something in the water they drink in that family._ I think as I look for similarities between the two brothers but soon find that, when it comes to looks and demeanor, they are polar opposites.

"Oh… " She mutters, obviously embarrassed. Let's just say that Kate has to work a little on the diplomacy and learn to control her reactions a little better.

"Look, I'm tired so I'm calling it a night. Do you want me to wait for you to say goodbye so we can go home with Luke or is your _date_ going to drop you off?" I say and gesture towards Elliot Grey who still has to wipe that smirk off his face that's been present ever since I interrupted them.

"Oh… um… Ana, this is Elliot Grey. Elliot, this is my friend, Anastasia Steele." Kate finally introduces us while gesturing wildly back and forth between me and Grey's brother. "You saw her yesterday night…" She trails off.

"Nice to meet you, Anastasia! How are you doing? Everything all right?" Elliot asks with a smile.

I frown not understanding why he would inquire about my general disposition but it soon disappears when I realize he's talking about my panic attack.

"I'm fine. Nice to meet you too, Elliot. And, please, call me Ana. Any friend of Kate's is a friend of mine." I say with a smooth voice and his eyes slightly glaze over but he blinks himself out of his daze a second later. "Anyway, maybe I'll catch you guys tomorrow. Kate, text me when you're up so we can go over your speech once more before the ceremony."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." She says as she hugs me tight. "Sorry I took off like that." She whispers into my ear as she hugs me. I let go and roll my eyes at her. _Typical Kate._ I wave in Elliot's direction and turn around to leave.

The walk back to where I left my _date_ and Luke is treacherous. The place is _beyond_ packed and more than a few men have had one too many drinks. I breathe out in relief when I make it back to the lobby without getting grabbed or fondled.

"Sorry it took so long. Kate is fine. I am more than ready to go home, Luke. Mark, thank you for a nice evening considering my friend's… behavior." I say and smile in his direction once Luke has taken off to get the car.

"Leaving already?" He asks, his face and eyes betraying his disappointment.

"I'm afraid so. I've had a really busy day and it's caught up with me." I reply with a small smile meant to reassure him I'm being honest.

"Oh… I see. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Anastasia. If you ever want to meet, have lunch, tell funny stories, here's my card." He says and lightly kisses my cheek.

I take the card and put it in my clutch, thanking him with a smile on my face. It's always nice to meet new people. Social connection and all that rubbish Will is trying to stuff into my head.

_See, Anastasia? There still are normal men out there. And some of them are _single. The voice of my subconscious breaks through my mind, making me smile, as I turn around on my heel and walk towards the exit, Luke in tow.

_There is still hope for me yet._ I giggle.

There is still _hope._

As soon as Luke pulls the car in front of me, I can swear an electric current shoots through me. I shake it off. Must be the accumulated stress.

* * *

**Sooo... how was it? Nice? Better than nice?**

**Next chapter should come this weekend... as a special treat for you guys. And, guess what? It's time for the graduation ceremony! Who's excited? :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! **

**Guess who's back with chapter 7?**

**Soooo... Ana is finally graduating and Ray, Kate and Ethan will be there for the big day. And let's not forget Christian Trevelyan-Grey! Something tells me sparks are going to fly and jealousy will reach new heights. Curious? Read the chapter and find out for yourselves!**

* * *

Ch 7.

I am dressed and ready by the time Ray arrives. I open the front door and find him standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit. A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He's taken-aback, bemused, and, most importantly, happy to see me. We haven't seen each other as often as we both wanted, partly because I don't know how to act around him and partly because he doesn't know me or, better said, the person I've become. But we have been trying to reconnect and our conversations over the phone have been less awkward as time went by.

"Hey, Annie, I'm pleased to see you too." He mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. "You okay, kid?"

Ray has this knack of reading someone with a mere glance in their direction and I am no exception to his ability. It used to drive me up the walls when I was a child and lived with him while Carla entertained Husband number Three but now I can fully appreciate the fact that he takes the time and energy to know what's really going on with me. Still, I try to dodge this part of the conversation.

"Of course, dad! Can't a girl be pleased to see her old man?" I reply with a smile on my face that's anything but real. Truth is, I'm dreading the moment Christian Grey will become, once again, something more than just an abstract notion in the back of my mind. I have been successful in keeping him away from my mind but my luck has run out. I will see him soon and my nerves are fried.

Ray smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area without further words.

"You look good," he says.

I glance down at the pleated burgundy V-neck dress with its long sleeves and smile. It covers up everything but has a nice deep décollteage which gives it a more sexy allure that fits the cutout suede and metallic leather sandals like a glove. Demure dress and sexy footwear. _Elizabeth would approve_, my subconscious says as it gives me thumbs up. But I know he's not talking about my outfit. I am sure he's already taken inventory of any sign that would point out to the fact that I've been using or done anything to put my health or life in jeopardy.

I look straight into his knowing eyes and smile.

"Thanks, dad. I _feel_ good."

My reply makes him smile and I lead him in the living room where Luke awaits on the couch. He jumps to his feet and the men shake hands and salute the other just like any other ex-military would.

"Tea, anyone?" I offer and once I get two orders, I go into the kitchen and let them catch up before we have to go to the ceremony.

Luke pulls his SUV into the campus lot and I take a few moments to get my emotions under control under the watchful eyes of both my father and bodyguard. Though technically Luke is here only for moral support and not on bodyguard duty, I have a feeling I would be in need of his services once my path crosses Christian Grey's. For Grey, this ceremony is nothing more than PR. He didn't graduate from Harvard because, apparently, it was way too boring for his intellect. I bite back a snort when I think about Grey and his general attitude.

_Everything_ seems beneath him.

Even telling the truth and respecting one's privacy.

We get out of the car and follow the steady stream of students that pour in the direction of the sports auditorium. Everyone – myself included – is wearing black and red gowns and matching capes and fiddles with the bloody tassel that won't keep still. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who has a problem with the damn thing but I'm on edge so no one says anything about my mood. _Thank God! _

I walk up to my seat with a fake air of confidence that I manage to summon with great effort. It's not because I dislike crowds – even if I do and always have – but because I know someone is bound to recognize me and start asking stupid questions. That and the fact that I am in the same building as Christian Grey. How is it that I had managed to avoid him for over a year and in less than one week I've probably seen him more than his own parents? _You can't avoid him forever, Anastasia. _My subconscious points out with a calm voice that makes me grind my teeth. Fate wants it this way. Well, fuck fate!

"Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous. Do you have to do anything?"

Holy crap… why has Ray picked today of all days to be observant?

I share a look with Luke and turn my gaze back to the waiting eyes of my Dad.

"No, dad. It's just a big day." _And I'm going to see him._

"Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I'm proud of you, Annie. You're overcome huge obstacles and you being here is another proof that you are stronger than you give yourself credit. I'm proud to say that you're wearing my name, Annie, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who considers himself your father. Think about that." He says with a pointed stare and I know he's referring to Stephen.

Oh, I love this man. _And Stephen,_ my subconscious quickly adds. Him too…

"Thank you, dad. For everything. I could never repay your kindness." I say as a stray tear makes its way down my cheek. I wipe it away hastily and give my Dad a bright smile meant to reassure both of us. I have to keep my emotions under control if I want to actually receive my degree and finish this whole stupid farce where I'm supposed to be over the moon because the great Christian Grey will be handing me my degree while the whole press in the Washington state will take pictures. I wonder just how long it will take them to realize that the real star in the picture isn't Christian Grey but the girl standing next to him, the heiress of the Clayton Empire.

The sports auditorium is crowded. Ray has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the raked seating, while I make my way to my seat. I'm wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel protected by them, anonymous. _Enjoy the feeling while it lasts, Anastasia. _

I make my way to my seat amongst fellow students whose surnames also begin with S. I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity. I glance behind me and spot Ray sat up high in the bleachers. I give him a wave. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit back and wait.

The auditorium fills quickly and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls whom I don't know from a different faculty. They're obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly. About Grey! _Urgh!_

At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice Chancellors, and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia. We stand and applaud our teaching staff. Some Professors nod and wave, others look bored. Professor Collins, my tutor and my favorite teacher, looks like he's just fallen out of bed, as usual. Last on to the stage is Kate, with Christian Grey. Grey stands out in his bespoke gray suit, copper highlights glinting in his hair under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.

"Look at him!" One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend.

"He's hot."

I stiffen. I'm sure they're not talking about Professor Collins.

"Must be Christian Grey."

"Is he single?"

I roll my eyes and try to focus my attention on anything else other than their conversation.

As the Chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Grey subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I fail miserably as a second later his gray eyes find mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. Following a swift glance up at the Chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV emblem hung above the entrance. He doesn't turn his eyes toward me again. The Chancellor drones on and Grey still doesn't look at me. He just stares fixedly ahead.

_Maybe he gave up…_ I think to myself as I try to get my emotions under control. _Maybe he's going after Stephen's empire with the ammo you gave him, Anastasia._ My subconscious sneers.

Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as Miss Katherine Kavanagh has taken the stage. The Chancellor sits and Kate tosses her lovely long hair behind her as she places her papers on the lectern. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people gaping at her. She smiles when she's ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech. She's so composed and funny; the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke. _Oh, Katherine Kavanagh, you can deliver a good line. _I feel so proud of her at that moment; my errant thoughts of Grey are pushed to the side. Even though I have heard her speech before, I listen carefully. She commands the room and takes her audience with her.

Her theme is _What Next After College_? Grey is watching Kate, his eyebrows slightly raised – in surprise, I think.

Kate concludes her speech with a flourish and spontaneously everyone stands, applauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at her and cheer and she grins back at me. _Good job, Kate. _She sits, as does the audience, and the Chancellor rises and introduces Grey. The Chancellor touches briefly on his achievements: CEO of his own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made man.

_A real catch, ladies and gentlemen. _If _you can get past his lack of empathy, lack of respect towards personal space and lack of respect towards people in general. If you can get past the fact that he could very well be a skilled psychopath._ A very big _if_ indeed!

"And also a major benefactor to our University, please welcome, Mr. Christian Grey."

The Chancellor pumps Christian's hand and there is a swell of polite applause. He approaches the lectern and surveys the hall. He looks so confident standing in front of us all, as Kate did before him. The two girls beside me lean in, enraptured. In fact, I think most of the female members of the audience inch closer and a few of the men. He begins, his voice soft, measured, and mesmerizing. _If they only knew what a bastard you are underneath that armor and mask. They'd be running for the hills in the opposite direction without giving his pretty face a second thought..._ I think to myself as I fix him with a glare that could freeze molten lava.

"I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here at the University. Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me... "

My jaw falls to the floor. What? Grey was once hungry? Holy crap! Well, that explains a great deal. And I recall the interview; he really does want to feed the world. I desperately rack my brains to remember what Kate had written in her article. I can't imagine that Grace Trevelyan-Grey starved him, so it must have been before, as a little boy. I swallow, my heart constricting at the thought of a hungry, gray-eyed toddler. I know from personal experience what it is to go hungry and thirsty, to feel like your body is giving up on fighting for that vital breath, your heart giving up on beating and everything around you going in slow motion. _I remember that with a clarity I detest!_

He smiles briefly at the warm applause – even Kate is clapping, then he resumes his seat. He doesn't look my way, and I'm off-kilter trying to assimilate this new information about him.

One of the Vice Chancellors rises, and we begin the long, tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are over four hundred to be given out and it takes just over an hour before I hear my name. I make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls.

Grey gazes down at me, his gaze warm but guarded.

"Congratulations, Miss Steele!" He says as he shakes my hand, squeezing it gently. I feel the charge of his flesh on mine. I say nothing in return, opting for a small nod. "I want to talk to you, Anastasia." He continues, his voice lower so as not to be heard.

I frown as he hands me my degree.

"Well, I don't. Go away, Mr. Grey." I reply through clenched teeth as I plaster a fake smile on my face for a picture the photographer insists is vital. We pause briefly as he takes a picture of both of us.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey." The photographer says and scurries off. I blink from the flash, trying to get rid of the bright spots in my vision. It's no easy task.

"I'm not taking no for an answer." He continues to press but I couldn't care less.

"Piss. Off." I say with a sweet smile and look around for Luke. I spot him a second later and I relax. Grey's eyes narrow and his posture tenses. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be and people to tend to." I say as I untangle myself from him and go in the direction of the students who have already received their degrees.

The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It's interminable. Finally, the Chancellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Grey and Kate.

As I stand and wait for our row to disperse, Kate calls to me. She's heading my way from behind the stage.

"Christian wants to talk to you." She shouts. The two girls who are now standing beside me turn and gape at me. "He sent me out here." She continues.

Of course he did. _It comes with the territory when you're a megalomaniac stalker with a God complex._

"Your speech was great, Kate." I say with a genuine smile.

"It was, wasn't it?" she beams. "Are you coming? He can be very insistent." She rolls her eyes, and I grin._ Oh, I know._ Too bad Mr. Grey will have to curb that urge to get everything handed on a silver platter.

"Ignore him, love. I know I do." I say with a wink and she erupts into giggles. "I have to get to the loo. Join me so I won't lose you in this sea of people?"

"Sure."

I glance up at Ray and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, giving me an okay sign, and I follow Kate into the corridor behind the stage with Luke hot on my heels. Christian is talking to the Chancellor and two of the teaching staff. He looks up when he sees me.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." I hear him murmur. He comes toward me and smiles briefly at Kate.

"Thank you." He says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men's locker room. I panic and start looking around for Luke who's two seconds away. I can almost feel the tension rolling off of Grey but Luke's presence a few feet away makes me feel safe. One small gesture from my part and Luke's at my side. He knows what he has to do.

"I think Miss Steele has been more than explicit, Mr. Grey." Luke's cold and detached voice makes Grey snap his gaze from me and focus on him for a few moments. His eyes narrow as he probably weighs his chances of standing up to Luke. _I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Grey. _My subconscious replies with a sweet voice that's anything but nice and sweet.

He opens the door further and I head out. My mind is whirling. The Chancellor, the three Vice Chancellors, four professors and Kate stare at me as I walk hastily past them. _Holy crap! _I was so close to losing my shit in there! Leaving Grey with the faculty and Luke, I go in search of Ray. _Forget the loo, I need my daddy!_

The hall is still at least half full and Ray has not moved from his spot. He sees me, waves and makes his way down.

"Hey, Annie. Congratulations." He puts his arm around me. His touch soothes my nerves in an instant.

"Would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?" I offer even though I know I'd better be swallowing hot coals than sit here some more and face Grey again.

"Sure. It's your day. Lead the way."

"We don't have to if you don't want to." _Please say no…_

"Annie, I've just sat for two and half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink."

I put my arm through his and we stroll out with the throng into the warmth of the early afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer. There will be enough photos of me tomorrow. I can almost see the headlines… I suppress a groan and try to focus my attention on something else other than the fact that the press will get wind of my location. Granted, the press in the US isn't as bad as the one in the UK but all it takes is a few sticks to light up the bloody fire!

"Oh, that reminds me." Ray drags a digital camera out of his pocket. "One for the album, Annie." I roll my eyes at him as he snaps a picture of me.

"Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky." I say with an uncomfortable smile. He rolls his eyes and I take that as a yes. I shrug the gown off and carefully remove the cape and hand them to Luke who materializes next to me out of thin air and gives me a smile.

The marquee is immense, and crowded – students, parents, teachers and friends, all chattering happily. Ray hands me a glass of champagne or cheap fizzy wine, I suspect. It's not chilled, and it tastes sweet. My thoughts turn to Stephen… he wouldn't like this. _Then again, it's not like he's here since you have cut him off from your life, Anastasia!_ My subconscious admonishes me. I frown. She's right, as always. Then again, I know that. She is a part of me.

"Ana!" I turn and Ethan Kavanagh scoops me into his arms. He twirls me around, without spilling my wine. Some feat! A few moments later I'm begging him to put me down before I lose my balance. _The price I have to pay for these nice shoes…_

"Congratulations!" He beams down at me, green eyes twinkling and I beam back at him. What a surprise. His dirty blonde hair is tousled and sexy-looking. He's as beautiful as Kate. The family resemblance is striking. But it's his resemblance to Nick that has me blinking fast. _He isn't here, Anastasia. Stop staring!_

"Wow – Ethan! How lovely to see you." I breathe and tear my eyes away from him. "Dad, this is Ethan, Kate's brother. Ethan, this is my dad, Ray Steele." They shake hands, my dad coolly assessing him. "Ethan, this is my best friend and bodyguard, Luke Sawyer." I say as soon as Ethan finishes shaking my dad's hand. Luke smiles and also shakes his hand.

"When did you get back from Europe?" I ask as soon as the hand shaking has stopped.

"I've been back for a week, but I wanted to surprise my little sister." He says conspiratorially.

"That's so sweet." I grin up at him.

"She is Valedictorian, couldn't miss that." He looks immensely proud of his sister. "She gave a great speech."

"That she did." Ray says with a smile.

Ethan has his arm around my waist when I look up into the frosty gray eyes of Christian Grey. Kate is beside him. _Seriously?! Can't a girl catch a breath?_ It seems not.

"Hello, Ray." Kate kisses Ray on both cheeks, making him blush. "Ethan, I see you've already got your hands on Ana. I've already told you: wait 'till I get her drunk. Have a little patience!" Kate says with a wink, causing everyone to laugh. Everyone except for Christian Grey. He turns his arctic glare on Ethan who still has his arm around my waist.

Kate grins at me. She knows exactly what she's doing, the vixen! The problem is that there is no need to make Grey feel like he's threatened by Ethan's presence since his only interest is to torture me with memories from my past. But Kate seems to be under the impression that he's interested in me. I mentally snort at her assumption. If only she knew…

I look up into Ethan's green eyes and lose all thought once I see the pain in them. I frown.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as everyone resumes stories and jokes all around.

"We need to talk, Ana." He says, all traces of humor gone from his voice.

"Ethan, Mom and Dad wanted a word." Kate says and drags Ethan away after he kisses my forehead but before I get the chance to reply. I nod at him and turn my attention back to Luke who didn't miss my exchange with Ethan. One look at Grey and I know for a fact he didn't miss it either.

"Your mother called me." Ray says as soon as Ethan is out of earshot.

"I don't care." I reply with a flat voice.

"Ana…"

"No! I have nothing to say to her. And you should stay away from her if you know what's good for you." I say through clenched teeth as my temper threatens to erupt.

"She just wanted to know how you were." He continues, unaware of the anger burning inside me.

"She probably wanted to know if I have any money to give her. I don't. And even if I did, I wouldn't give her a cent." I spit and drown the rest of my wine, cringing as it slides down my throat. I need something stronger if I'm going to talk about my mother and this watered down version of a wine is definitely not enough. "Now, if you don't mind, could we take this conversation somewhere more private?" I say, eyeing Grey who has yet to go away. The last thing I need is for him to meddle in my business with Carla. He's done enough _good._

"As you wish, Annie." Ray says, resigned to the fact that we will probably never speak of Carla again.

"Luke, I'm hungry. Let's go get lunch." I say and turn my back to Grey, leaving him glaring at the back of my skull. I can almost feel his daggers in my brain. _Whatever, Mr. Grey!_

Luke drops us off at the flat and we make our way to my place while he parks his car a block away.

"Thanks for coming, Dad."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Annie. You make me so proud."

_Oh no. I'm not going to get emotional._ A huge lump forms in my throat and I hug him, hard. He puts his arms around me, bemused, and I can't help it – tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey, Annie, sweetheart," Ray croons. "Big old day... eh? Want me to come in and make you some tea?"

I laugh, in spite of my tears. Tea is always the answer according to Ray. I remember my mother complaining about him, saying that when it came to tea and sympathy, he was always good at the tea, not so hot on the sympathy. _Then again, neither is she._ My subconscious reminds me.

"No, Dad, I'm good. It's been so great to see you. I'll visit once I'm settled in Seattle. I promise."

"Love you, Annie." He says, still wrapped in my hug. I can't make my muscles let him go.

"Love you too, dad." I whisper in his chest as I allow myself one last sniff of his aftershave and body heat. He smiles, his brown eyes warm, glowing and he climbs into his car. I wave him off as he drives into the dusk and I wander lifelessly back into the apartment.

Luke arrives a few minutes later and I greet him in my gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that ends a little above the waistband of my sweatpants, revealing a sliver of my toned abdomen.

"You didn't tell me that Carla has attempted contact." He says. I can read the contempt on his face.

"I wasn't aware that I have to give you a play-by-play of my day. What's the problem anyway? She can call all she likes. It's not going to change anything." I say with a wave of my hand.

I want to say more but the buzz of the door silences me. I walk to the door and open it with a flourish, coming face to face with Ethan Kavanagh. I don't make any moves to mask my surprise.

"Ethan… please, come in." I say with a tentative smile.

"I'd rather go outside and enjoy the nice weather. You up for a walk?" He replies and eyes Luke warily.

I frown and turn around to see Luke standing a few feet behind me.

"I'm going out for a walk with Ethan." I tell Luke as I slip on some sneakers. "Alone." I add once I see him start to pick up his keys. "I'll have my phone with me. If you feel the need to check up on me, don't hesitate to call. Otherwise, you're free for the evening, Luke. Enjoy the summer air and all that."

Ethan falls in step next to me as we stroll down on the stairs and later, on the sidewalk.

"You haven't said anything about the marks on my arms and wrists." I say, breaking the heavy silence that has settled around us. My nerves are on edge now that I know that he knows something. Has he told Kate? "Have you told Kate?" I whisper loud enough for him to hear my question.

"No, of course not!" He looks appalled by the notion so I breathe in some air and release it carefully as I weigh in my options and everything tied to them. _Dodged that bullet! _"That's your decision to make but once the press gets wind that you're here in Washington, it'll be just a matter of time before the information starts pouring in the media here. I'd rather you told her before she finds out from other sources. She deserves that much, don't you agree?"

"She's seen my track marks."

"But she hadn't seen the scars on your wrists." Ethan says more like a question than a statement.

"No, not the scars." I confirm with a shake of my head as I look away from him.

"I'd like to think I know my sister well enough to advise you to tell her the official story before she reads it from somewhere. She's a little distracted right now with graduation and our upcoming holiday to the Bahamas but it won't last forever, Ana. Your time is running out." Ethan says as he traces the scars on my wrists, making my skin tingle. I look into his pools of emerald.

"I know." I murmur and look away from his intense stare.

"Good." Ethan says with a small nod.

"How did you find out?" I ask and peer at him with the corner of my eye.

"It wasn't really hard, to be honest. Your name came up in various newspapers. They say you could be the heiress to the Clayton Empire now that Paul is dead and Stephen Clayton has no other children." He replies and shrugs. "They went into a few details about last year and how you disappeared into thin air. You're UK's sweetheart, aren't you?" He asks with a smile on his lips.

_You have no idea!_

"Something like that." I acknowledge with a smirk.

"So… is it true? Does Stephen Clayton plan to leave everything to you?"

"It's true."

"Are you serious? Wow, Ana! You're loaded, aren't you?"

"I think you meant to say that Stephen Clayton is loaded. I would only inherit it if he dies and I'm not really keen on entertaining that notion right now." I mumble as I look at my wrists and think about the person who made them the way they are right now. _My dear step-brother._

"Who did that to you, Ana? They keep saying that you were kept drugged and you have no idea who it was. They also say there is no ongoing investigation due to lack of evidence."

"I know what they say." I reply with a little more passion than initially intended.

"You seem fine with that idea." He asks with his eyebrows furrowed as if he's having trouble understanding my way of thinking and reasoning.

"I am." I say and pin him with my gaze. Ethan nods but I get the feeling that this conversation is far from over.

We continue to walk in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. Ethan takes my hand and traces random patterns on the inside of my palm. It feels so… natural – probably because I've known Ethan for quite some time and I never got the feeling that he wanted more than just a friendship. I think of him as a neutral observer that always manages to put two and two together with very little information.

"It was your step-brother, wasn't it?" He whispers and draws me into his arms so he can look into my eyes. I close my eyes for a second as I bask in the strength of his hold. I feel protected, my demons unable to make their presence known when he holds me like this. Maybe he knows I need this. Maybe he knows that physical contact is hard and I need every chance I can get at touching people of the opposite sex. I look up into his eyes.

"I'm not even going to ask you how you managed to piece that puzzle together. I trust this will stay between us no matter what." I ask with a pointed stare meant to show him just how much I will value his silence.

"You have my word, Ana." He whispers and kisses my forehead lovingly.

I can't help but think back to Paul. I didn't realize his hugs were possessive until it was too late, until I found myself tied up to a chair and drugged out of my mind. But Ethan is different. Ethan is the proof that I can have a male friend who isn't thinking about fucking me every five seconds. He is the proof that not every man out there is out to get me and I have to remind myself of that notion on a regular basis. _Maybe it'll stick to my brain in the end._

"Good. Now… shall we go back?"

"Sure. Kate's probably at your place looking for me anyway. I'm supposed to help her pack all her crap and I took the first chance I got to get away and save myself." Ethan says with a mock shiver.

"Can't say I blame you. The size of her closet gave me nightmares the first time I saw it. It's bigger than the one I have back in the UK. You could get lost in there. Be careful!" I tease and he cracks a smile.

The rest of the walk back to the apartment is filled with jokes and stories of Ethan getting in sticky situations and making it out alive... barely! I'm having the time of my life listening to his stories and laughing my ass off. By the time we reach my flat, I'm gripping my stomach from all the laughing and my knees are almost giving up on me.

I open the door to my flat and walk in without a glance. Soon enough, I find myself wishing I was more careful and paid more attention to my surroundings... because it seems like my living room has turned into a meeting spot in my absence.

Luke and Kate, along with Christian Grey and his ever present shadow, Jason Taylor, look up at the same time and I find myself staring into four pairs of eyes. _This is getting frustrating._ My subconscious huffs and crosses her arms in an attempt to block out the questions that are bound to start pouring in my direction but we both know that it's no use. I put my hands behind my back in a fraction of a second. I look at Ethan and plead with my eyes to get Kate out of here before she sees the marks on my wrists.

"Kate, you found me! I guess we have to get back to packing, huh?" Ethan says as he tugs Kate out of my flat and kisses my cheek when they passed by. Kate only offers a sly wink. _Seriously, Kate?!_

I turn around to Grey and I'm met with a really cold glare. I roll my eyes and cross my arms.

"What part of 'piss off' did you miss earlier today, Mr. Grey?"

"Ana..."

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. _Ana?! When did we end up on a first name basis, Grey?_

"First of all, my name is Anastasia Steele so it's 'Miss Steele' for you, Mr. Grey. I don't do first names with stalkers and people who have no respect for personal space. Second, in case I wasn't explicit last Saturday, I'm going to repeat myself: stay away from me, Mr. Grey. Do you really want me to file a report for stalking?"

"Miss Steele," he stresses my name with unnecessary force, "I need to talk to you."

_Do you now? _I tilt my head to the side and examine him closer.

"Well, Mr. Grey, you've caught me in such a good mood that not even your sour face can change that." I say as I make my way to an armchair and make myself as comfortable as possible. "Please, have a seat and do tell me what troubles you."

He looks at me for a few moments before undoing his jacket and taking a seat on the couch. I can tell he didn't miss the tone of my voice but he's in my house and he's going to have to swallow that pride if he wants this conversation to take place.

"Are you and Ethan Kavanagh in a relationship?"

"Really? That's why you came here? To make sure I'm not involved with Ethan? I don't remember needing to report back to you, Mr. Grey." I reply and inspect him closer. I can almost swear a muscle is pulsing in his neck. _He is jealous._ My subconscious notes and I bite back a smirk. In spite of everything, I love the fact that I can get under his skin just as easily as he gets under mine.

"Who did that to you?" Grey asks and points his chin in the direction of my arms.

"I don't know." I reply without missing a beat. It's a lie I've told so many time I don't even register it as it leaves my lips. In a way, I guess it's the truth. I consider it the truth. I didn't know the man my step-brother had transformed into. I had never seen that man and, thanks to his death, I will never have to face him ever again.

End. Of. Story.

"You're lying." Grey says through clenched teeth.

"Yes, I am." I reply without missing a beat. His jaw tenses.

"Tell me the truth." He demands as he stares into my eyes. I'm not intimidated, though.

"No."

"Tell me the truth, Anastasia, or so help me God..."

My laugh interrupts him.

It's a mean, spiteful laugh that comes out from the depths of my being casting an ugly glow to my soul. When I stop and tilt my head to the side, I take a moment to note Grey's reactions. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He's seconds away from exploding while I'm cool as a cucumber. "Get off your high horse, Grey! You're in no position to make demands! I've said it once and I'm going to say it again: my choices are none of your concern!"

He looks lost for words and the rest of my words die in my throat before I'm able to utter them.

There's a deep sadness underneath all that anger due to my defiance, like a blue undertone to a red lipstick. You almost don't see it but it's a part of the final color, complementing it. His sadness is not meant to be seen, not meant to be analyzed, but it's so profound that I find myself lost in it. His eyes betray him, betray the thoughts swirling in his head as he tries to say something, anything, that could salvage this conversation. _What does he really want?_ My subconscious asks but I'm unable to answer her because I don't know.

"Are you here to play the part of the knight in shiny armor or are you here to drag me down into your darkness, Mr. Grey?" I ask softly, searching for answers in his eyes.

He freezes and stands up a second later, departing without a word and leaving me and Luke staring after him and his CPO in a daze.

I shrug and make my way to my room to take a nice hot shower and wash this day away. I've said it once and I'm going to say it again: I can respect boundaries. And Grey seems to need those as much as he needs oxygen.

_Maybe he's just as fucked up as I am_. Now _that _would be interesting.

* * *

**It would, wouldn't it? Oh, Anastasia... you have no idea! **

**See you Wednesday, peeps!**

**As always, your comments are highly appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello there!**

**How are you guys? Excited about this chapter?**

**First of all, thank you all for your lovely reviews and all the attention! To my dear guests, I promise I'll do my best to keep Ana strong and with a backbone. Plus, she has to stay strong and away from Grey so he can push himself to get better. That's not to say that there won't be any interaction between them until he gets better because they will meet again.**

**This chapter is on the light side since I thought Ana deserved some emotional rest. However, we do get a glimpse into her teenage years so that's always nice... right? As the story progresses, we will find more interesting stories from her past.**

**In this chapter, Ana gets some bonding time with Elliot Grey. I really liked his character in the novel and I thought he deserved more than a few occasional lines. So, here's my take on Elliot Grey! Do let me know what you think of him!**

**Thank you Manal for pre-reading this! You're awesome!**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

Ch 8.

Elliot stands and admires his handiwork. He has re-plugged the TV into the satellite system in Kate's Pike Place Market apartment. Kate and I flop on to the couch giggling, impressed by his prowess with a power drill. The flat screen looks odd against the brickwork of the converted warehouse, but no doubt I will get used to it.

The apartment is not large, but it's big enough, three bedrooms and a large living space that looks out on to Pike Place Market itself. It's all solid wood floors and red brick, and the kitchen tops are smooth concrete, very utilitarian, very now. It fits Kate's personality to a T and I can already see me cooking her some meals so she won't survive only on take-out.

"See, baby? Easy!" He grins a wide white-toothed smile at Kate and she almost literally dissolves into the couch.

I roll my eyes at the pair of them, trying to look bored by their antics but I can't suppress the smile that finds its way on my lips.

"I'd love to stay, baby, but my sister is back from Paris. It's a compulsory family dinner tonight."

"Can you come by after?" Kate asks tentatively, all soft and un-Kate-like.

I stand and make my way over to the kitchen area on the pretense of unpacking one of the crates. They are going to get icky and Kate needs all the help she can get when it comes to unpacking. I move the boxes around and put them in their appropriate rooms so Kate can see what needs to be unpacked in the appropriate room.

"I'll see if I can escape." I hear him promise after a make-out session that lasts at least a full minute. _Just... ew! _"I have to get going now." Elliot says and I hear some footsteps in the direction of the door.

I emerge quickly from the kitchen and grab my car keys.

"I'll come down with you." I say and kiss Kate goodbye.

"Call me, Ana. I can't wait to see your house." She squeals in my ear and I roll my eyes at her childish behavior. _You wouldn't have it any other way, Anastasia._ My subconscious reminds me.

Elliot is adorable and so different from Grey. He's warm, open, physical, very physical – too physical – with Kate. They can barely keep their hands off each other – to be honest it's embarrassing. Then again, I haven't really seen how people are supposed to react when they genuinely like someone, without any expectations and ulterior motives. I used to think I had that with Nick but right now, I can't even stand the idea of that kind of intimacy with him. It makes me physically sick. _Maybe it wasn't love since we drifted apart so easily._

"You look good, Ana." Elliot says with a soft smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

I'm dressed in dark skinny jeans and a few layered tank tops with a scoop neck stripe print batwing on top and a pair of black suede wedges. I'm wearing my Alexander McQueen studded Swarovski crystal and leather skull cuffs, a present from Luke since he missed my 22nd birthday, to hide the scars on my wrists even though the batwing is long sleeved. My outfit is more on the casual side since I wanted to help Kate settle in before I go to my new home. Since Luke's already there, making sure that everything is running smoothly with the moving crew and putting finishing touches on the security, I wanted to get out of his hair and not deal with the hassle of moving and keeping Kate company for a few hours was my best plan.

"Thank you, Elliot. You do, too. Happiness suits you. Or should I say _love_?" I ask, my eyebrows raised as I tease him. A grin appears on his face in seconds.

"I'm getting there." He replies with a small smile that lights up his boyish features and shows his dimples perfectly.

"How is it?" I ask, unable to stop my mouth from spilling the words.

"How's what?" He replies, genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry. We've only met twice and I'm already crossing lines. Forget about it." I mutter and look away. _I am so embarrassed._

"Ana, it's OK. I really didn't understand your question. Were you talking about love?"

"Yes." I blush and bite my lip.

"I don't know about others but for me... it's consuming. It's like I'm aware of each breath she takes, each smile that lights up her face."

"No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them." I murmur but Elliot still catches it.

I think back to my relationship with Nick and I try to remember how we used to be, the small gestures that we used to share and no one else was aware of. It was such a nice period… and the way that it god ripped from me tore me in half.

"Where did you read that?"

Elliot's voice brings me back into the present and I glance in his direction. He looks so carefree, so... in love. _Another thing that you may never have, Anastasia. Unless you _really _try to get your life back on track. _My subconscious whispers. I bite back a sigh.

"Actually, I've heard it… in a TV show." I reply and smile as I weave my hand with Elliot's and drag him out of the elevator with a slight spring in my step. Elliot smiles back at me.

"Where's your car?" I ask him once we're downstairs, on the sidewalk in front of Kate's building.

"I'll take a cab or call Taylor. Whichever gets here first." He replies with a shrug.

"Where do your parents live?" I ask out of the blue, catching Elliot by surprise. It takes him a few seconds to reply.

"In Bellevue."

His incomplete answer almost has me smacking him across the head. Frustrated, I sigh.

"Love, you'll have to be a bit more specific. West Bellevue, Northwest Bellevue..." I trail off, thinking about the other areas of Bellevue that I've heard about but I come up blank. The only reason why I remembered the first two was because they were connected to cardinal points.

"Sorry." Elliot says and throws me a wolfish grin. "Their house is in Medina. Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy." He teases me and throws another wink in my direction.

I roll my eyes and grab his arm once again.

"What do you know? My new house is also in Medina. I'm sure Luke has already programmed the address in the GPS." I say as I drag him up to my car.

Elliot's jaw hits the floor when he sees my ride, the Audi R8.

"You live in Medina and you drive an Audi R8. You don't do anything half way, huh?" He teases but I can feel the apprehension in his tone.

"What can I say... I have the world at my feet." I reply with a shrug and ease my body inside my beautiful car. The leather molds to my body and I have to suppress a moan. The sensation never gets old. It's like my car is hugging me and all the tension melts away from my body in a fraction of a second.

"Seat belt on." I say as I check my mirror and ease my way out of the parking lot with expert precision.

I drive stick, enjoying the connection I have with my car, the way the engine purrs underneath the hood, how each move of the steering wheel translates into a very swift move of the car.

The indie music is set on low and I softly hum the tune of a particular song and let the guitar chords wash over me like waves breaking on a rocky shore. It soothes my nerves and any other emotion that could tamper my mood. Driving is always a reminder of freedom, of leaving things behind and conquering new territories.

In no time, we're cruising down the 520 as I floor the gas and shift into the 5th gear with determination.

"You're a good driver. How long have you been driving?" Elliot asks. I almost forgot he was in the car with me.

"Almost two years now." I say as I think back to my first driving course with my instructor, Mikael, a former F1 driver. He grilled everything in my brain until I would end up dreaming about driving. _That was a few months before the incident, before I..._ I suppress a shiver and make my brain come back to present day, away from the darkness.

"Oh."

"What?" I ask and steal a peek at Elliot only to find him staring at me with a far-away look.

"I could have sworn you had at least 5 or 6 years under your belt. You're good for someone who probably used to drive on the wrong side of the road." Elliot throws a tease at the end to break the somber mood. It works. I laugh for a minute before it dies down.

"That wouldn't have been possible. I'm 22. You have to be at least 18 to get a driver's license in Europe." I point out as soon as I manage to get some air in my lungs.

"That sucks."

"Not really. You're considered a fully fledged adult at the age of 18. That includes driving, smoking, drinking, joining the army, getting high – if you live in the Netherlands." I say with a wink.

My words sober him up instantly and he mock glares at me. I could never understand how one is able to die for his country from the age of 18 but has to wait three more years to drink legally. Then again, I never understood why the Brits rode on 'the wrong side of the road'. _Maybe I'm French._ Yeah, that would explain _everything._

"How old were you when you got drunk for the first time?" Elliot asks out of the blue after a few moments of silence.

"Fifteen. It was the first and the last time." I say and think back to that particular memory with unusual fondness.

Nicholas had just been transferred to our school and Samantha had this _brilliant _idea of celebrating the arrival of a new boy. A handsome new boy. So we got some liquor and proceeded to get the new boy drunk out of his mind. Curios by nature, I wanted to see what it would feel like. _And I did._ The morning after was horrible and I swore off alcohol _forever_. I didn't actually keep my word but I never got drunk again so I suppose I kept a part of that promise.

"What?!" Elliot exclaims, making me giggle. His face whips in my direction, an incredulous look etched on his features.

I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing but I end up losing the battle. I throw my head back and laugh, shaking my head at the funny look on his face. It's priceless!

"I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." I say as soon as my laughter has died down. "There are some things you should know so you can form a correct opinion: I grew up in a boarding school in Lille where my mother sent me from the age of seven. I grew up among teachers of all kinds, spoiled brats and other kids not so spoiled. It's not the same as when you're living with parents and they keep an eye on you all the time to make sure you don't get into trouble. The teachers tried to keep us in check and made sure we didn't take things _too_ far but there was only so much they could do, especially when the children grew up and the hormones started raging. It's not so tempting when there's no challenge." I say and shrug nonchalantly.

"You mean to say you could have gotten drunk with each chance you got and you blew that off?"

"I preferred weed." I say with a smirk, already guessing that Elliot's face is going to fall. I'm not disappointed.

"Wow. Just... wow! I'll never be able to look at you the same, Ana." Elliot says and shakes his head while sporting a big grin. "You were a pothead?"

"Better than the 'shrooms." I say and shudder at that _particular_ memory.

"You tried those too?!" His eyes are the size of saucers.

I think it's safe to say that everything Elliot thought about me has been blown to pieces by now.

"Of course! Not as good as people said it would be. I threw up and swore to God I'd never touch those vile things again… which is kind of ironic since I went to a Catholic school and I don't think God liked to see me smoke marijuana in the first place."

Silence settles for a few minutes after Elliot has a wild laugh on my expense. He digests the new information I've provided him with and asks more questions.

"Wow! Is there _anything _you haven't tried yet? You have a wild side, Ana." He says with a chuckle.

_Seriously? What is this? 21 questions?_

I suppress an eye roll.

"I did have a wild side." I reply with a flat voice. Elliot picks up on the change in no time. _There's a brain underneath all that fooling around._ I note as I grip the wheel tighter.

"Why the past tense? What changed?"

I glance at him. _This is beginning to sound like the Elliot Grey Inquisition._ I take a deep breath and bite the bullet. Talking to Elliot like a normal person feels great. The conversation is easy going and there's no pressure to keep talking. I can stop anytime without Will pleading with me, without Kate pestering me, without Grey looking at me like he'd want to strangle me. Elliot is different and I think Kate finally made a good decision and got herself someone with a brain.

"I was trying to fill a hole that can never be filled. It was fun while it lasted but the fantasy doesn't last forever. Living a fantasy has its perks but living _in_ a fantasy doesn't. That only means madness. I'd like to think I still have my entire mental faculties."

Silence settles in the car once again as Elliot studies my profile with fascination and I do my best to keep my poker face on and my attention on the road in front of me.

My thoughts drift once again to that period of my life. It wasn't as carefree as I let on. Quite the opposite, actually. I was struggling with mommy issues and I was taking everything out on Stephen because he was the only one there for me. He was the only authority figure in my life and I hated him with a passion. All the rules he set up in place, the random drug tests that the school made me take and the endless lectures about the damage I was supposedly doing to my body. I failed quite a few of those random drug tests and Stephen was _beyond_ furious. It was my cry for attention, or at least that's what the school shrink told him. He was right, up to a point. I did do it so that my mother would take notice and start giving me more attention but I was also doing it because it was the only way to take the edge off. It was the only way I could get my mind and emotions under control.

It sounds stupid, I know. Smoking pot does _not_ give you control. You _relinquish_ it to the drugs and just go along for the ride. But it was _my_ choice to relinquish that control and that was exactly why I felt _in _control. My emotions, on the other hand, never gave up on trying to break through and, soon enough, I realized that I was just delaying the inevitable. So I dropped the pretense and dropped my old habits. I wasn't doing anyone any favors.

I clear my throat awkwardly and focus my attention on the passenger on my right.

"What's the address, love?"

Elliot looks at me a little funny for a few seconds before he snaps out of his thoughts and gives me the address.

"Why do you call me that?" He later asks me as I maneuver my way through the heavy traffic with ease.

"Call you what?" I steal a peak at him with the corner of my eye and see him staring at me intensely.

"_Love_." He says and even uses air quotes. I suppress a smirk.

"Oh… I'm sorry. It's a very common form of endearment in the UK. Does it bother you?" I ask, genuinely curious. I like Elliot and I don't want to do or say something that can make him uncomfortable in my presence.

"No. It's just… weird to hear you say it."

I laugh.

"Kate said the same thing when we first spoke." I say and grin at that particular memory. Her first reaction was to ask me if I was gay.

"You call her that too?" Elliot asks, curiosity visible in his features.

"Yes." I reply with a smile.

"Okay… I guess it's not so weird anymore."

I roll my eyes and pull up in front of the Grey mansion. They have an impressive front garden, the lawn manicured to perfection and filled with roses in full bloom. The house is in some Mediterranean style: tan colors, big French windows that open to big balconies. _Someone went all out,_ I note as I step out of the car and breathe in the sweet perfume of the roses. They are in every color imaginable and the result is spectacular, like a scene out of a fairy tale. I take a few more seconds to bask in the sunlight and the sweet scent. A smile stretches on my lips and my mood immediately brightens.

I don't even need to think about the demons and how I can keep them at bay.

"Elliot Grey!"

I jump at the sound and turn around to see who I assume is Grace Trevelyan-Grey. She's impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looks groomed, elegant and beautiful as her hair shines in the sun rays and her hazel eyes sparkle. She has her hands on her hips and her eyes are narrowed. _Ooops! Someone is in trouble!_

"You let the young lady drive you? I swear to God, sometimes I think you've been raised by wolves!"

Her assumption makes me giggle. There's no doubt in my mind that she thinks I'm Elliot's girlfriend. _Kate would have a cow is she could only see this!_

"It's fine, Mrs. Grey! Elliot's girlfriend gave me the green light." I say and wink in Elliot's direction before turning my attention back to the lady of the house who is regarding me with a small smile on her lips and twinkling eyes. "I'm Anastasia Rose Steele, Katherine's friend." I say and raise my hand to shake hers. However, Mrs. Grey has other plans. She grabs me into a tight hug and I freeze for a fraction of a second before I recover and hug her back awkwardly. If she caught it, she doesn't let it show.

"Please, Anastasia, call me Grace. We're on a first name basis around here. It's so nice to finally meet you. Elliot has told me about you."

"He did? I hope it was all good." I say as I throw a glare at Elliot and mouth _'__What did you tell her?' _with a mock glare. He only grins and winks in return. _So much for his help._

"Of course! Please, come in! My daughter, Mia, and my younger son, Christian, should be here any minute. Mia has finally come home from Paris and we're having a nice dinner. I would be very happy if you were to accept my invitation to stay for dinner. Elliot, call Kate and invite her."

I am stunned for two whole seconds before I snap out of my stupor and lightly touch her arm.

"I'm sorry but I have to decline. I have yet to see my new house and a lot of unpacking is waiting for me." I say with a small smile.

"Oh… of course. I didn't mean to come off so strong. Please forgive me. It's just that I've never had girls visiting." Grace says with a glare in Elliot's direction before she smiles back at me. "With so much testosterone in the family, I'll take any chance at evening the score." She says with a cheeky wink. _With a son like Grey, I have no doubt in my mind._

I throw my head back and laugh. Grace joins me and giggles while Elliot chuckles and shakes his head.

"If you keep it up, mom, she's gonna run and never come back. And she'll warn Kate." Elliot says between chuckles.

"What's so funny?"

I freeze as I hear Grey's voice. _I didn't even hear the bloody car!_ Grace regains her composure and smiles brightly at her younger son. You can almost _see_ the love in her eyes. How can someone be so fucked up with a mum like that? I would have given my bloody liver to have someone like her in my life for five minutes and he gets more and he's _still_ an ass. _I really don't get it!_

I peek at Grey and find him staring with that intense look that makes my heart beat faster, like I'm a rabbit being chased by a fox. He's dressed in a pair of black fitted jeans that hug him _perfectly_ and a white linen shirt that makes his eyes and hair pop. He's mouthwatering. _And an ass. Don't forget that, Anastasia!_ My subconscious reminds me and I snap out of my daze. I was almost ogling control freak, stalker, master of the Universe, Christian Grey! _Where is my brain when I need it?!_

"Mom!"

A young woman appears out of the dark SUV and throws her arms around Grace's neck, and immediately I know it's Mia. She's dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a navy blue top and looks amazing in a very non-sophisticated way. Grace hugs her tight before Mia lets go and jumps into Elliot's waiting arms. He twirls his sister around and her happy giggles fill my heart with joy. I find myself smiling at the sight in front of me even though, deep down, sadness is spreading through my cells as I think about all the times I went home on holidays from Lille and there was no one to greet me or twirl me around like that. There's a longing in my bones that I can't seem to shake. My smile disappears.

"Hi, I'm Mia!"

Her crystal voice breaks me out of my daze and I smile awkwardly.

"Hello. I'm Anastasia." I say with a polite smile that seems forced even to me. "And I should be going. It was nice meeting you all." I say and wave goodbye before I get into my car and speed away from the happy family portrait. My heart is in my stomach and soon enough, rivers of tears flow down my cheeks as I peel out of the driveway, leaving tire marks in the gravel.

_Fuck my bloody life!_

I arrive fairly fast at my new home. I turn into an allée of horse chestnuts and down the driveway of the house. There are a multitude of flowers and bushes, trimmed to perfection and arranged with taste. The car comes to a slow stop and I step out of it with determination. This house represents a new chapter in my life and I am _not_ going to ruin this moment with memories of the past and regrets that no longer belong in my present.

_Deep breaths, Anastasia._ Will's voice fills my mind and I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When I open my eyes again, I'm back in the present. _Good._

The house has only one story but it's gorgeous beyond words. It's a minimalist box supported by white steel columns and wrapped in black Virginia slate (if I remember correctly from the brochure), with floor-to-ceiling glass walls. I walk around the house and admire the terrazzo-paved terraces under cantilevers that surround the four sides of the house, with open-air living and dining areas reached through sliding glass doors.

Beds of ivy and arborvitae, allées of honey locusts and sculpted hedges complement the residence and make it all but invisible to its neighbors. A piece of undisturbed Heaven. I can already picture myself eating outside and enjoying the crisp air of late spring without a care in the world. The thought makes me smile.

Inside, beyond its massive steel-and-glass doors, I find myself in the sprawling living-dining room, lit by slender frosted-glass skylights, and feel the cool serenity that the muted light creates. Books and mementos of a lifetime of exotic travels cover almost all the walls. The house is further enlivened with ethnic-eclectic folk art from Mexico, Asia, and Eastern Europe; Murano glass paperweights and other artifacts crowd bookshelves and cocktail tables. Opulent colors and graphic patterns, different textures and materials blend into one another like a rainbow, like a carnival. It's all very… comforting.

The retro pieces of furniture contrast nicely with the more modern ones, as if the house was furnished at a slow pace, pieces added as time went by and there was a need for them; like they're added as an afterthought. However, they blend in without a hitch, an array of colors and fabrics that make me want to touch everything I can get my hands on. Including the black baby grand in the living room. My fingers itch to touch it, to feel the cool ivory keys as they come alive under my touch. It's been so long since I last played; it feels like a lifetime. It is part of _her_, the girl before the incident. The girl who had the world at her feet, in spite of her issues.

I focus my attention back into the present with a little bit of effort and look around my new home. _Focus on the light and fight the darkness, Anastasia._

It's like I'm Alice in Wonderland, discovering piece by piece of a very pretty and very surreal world, and I'm enjoying each second. There's so much history in this house, so much attention to details and so much… tranquility.

_It's perfect._

I turn around and Luke smiles widely when he sees the smile on my face.

"It's perfect." I breathe and jump into his waiting arms.

"Welcome home, Anastasia." He breathes into my hair and hugs me tight.

_This is home._ This is _my _home.

* * *

**PS: Most of the description of the exterior of Anastasia's house is from_ www. .uk/ america/ miller-house-columbus_ and a few other sources that I can't seem to find at the moment (please forgive me, I wrote the description like a year ago!). **

**Look up some picture on Google. The house/museum really is gorgeous!**

**As always, I love reading what you guys think of this so far so don't be shy! Share your views and opinions here.**

**See you Saturday? Yeah... Saturday sounds good!**

**Bye!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi!**

**As promised, chapter 9 is here. And, boy, what a chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ch 9.

It's a beautiful Sunday, unusually beautiful for this time of the year but I'm definitely not going to complain about the sun's appearance. Like all good things, it's not going to last forever and I plan to make the most of the nice weather by sitting at the pool all day, if possible. I am going to meet the staff today and then I'll probably have Kate come over and lounge by the pool with her.

The last few days have been crazy and some relaxation should do wonders for my emotional health. Plus, Kate's presence today would also provide me with an opportunity to tell her about the track marks and scars on my wrist before she finds out from the media. It's only a matter of time before news breaks out that I've graduated and I'm currently living in the States and not in France with my mother – like everyone suspects.

I wake up around 7 AM after sleeping for almost twelve hours. Normally, my head would be killing me after this much sleep but my body apparently needed it so my head probably decided not to ruin this perfect day. _Though I'll probably ruin it when I have the necessary chat with Kate. _I am _not_ looking forward to that particular task but I have to bite the bullet and get it over with as soon as possible. I'm nervous and jumpy and a little scared but I guess it's to be expected… right? It's not every day that I tell people the story behind my scars.

The air leaves my lungs with a soft sigh as I make my way to the bathroom where I take a short but very hot shower and go through my morning routine leisurely.

Today, I shall be meeting Natalie, the housekeeper and cook, and Jim, the gardener.

From what Luke was able to tell me yesterday before I went to bed, Natalie is from France but speaks English fluently. She has been taking care of this house for a few years now and I could tell from my brief tour yesterday that she was very good at what she did. The house was beyond pristine. I'm really looking forward to meeting Natalie and getting to know her better. I'm a little shy when it comes to meeting new people who will be living with me in the same house but I'm determined to look friendly and create a nice environment for all of us.

Jim has been taking care of the garden and pool for a year and from what I could see yesterday, he took his job very seriously. There wasn't even a blade of grass out of place! Since I love planting and gardening, I hope Jim won't mind me meddling into his business. Then again, I'm supposed to be his boss so I don't think he could deny my requests anyway.

I walk out of my huge bathroom which has to be my favorite room yet. Its minimalist design and huge size was a little intimidating at first. Then I stepped into that huge white tub that can easily fit two people and never wanted to get out of there. Back at the flat, I only had a shower so if I was in need of a good soak and peel, I needed to make an appointment at a spa in Seattle. However, it was very uncomfortable since anyone who was in the room with me would have been able to see the track marks on the inside of my elbows and the scars on the wrists. So I kind of avoided it. But now, I have a tub and a spacious shower with glass walls with an _amazing_ rainfall shower-head. _I've died and gone to Heaven. It's the only plausible explanation!_

The bathroom is separated from the bedroom by purple _shōji_ doors.

And the bedroom… my God! It took my breath away when I first saw it in the brochure but actually _being_ in it had me close to tears.

The walls are a mix of strong and tan colors. Two walls are a mix of dark gray with a splash of brown to warm up the color a little bit while the wall behind my bed is a dark teal. Immaculate white tulle curtains cover up the exterior wall which is made completely out of glass. It was another feature of this house that blew me away: all the exterior walls are made of glass so that the natural light is able to pour in without anything getting in the way. And if I want to keep the light out, all I have to do is to push a button next to my bed and the dark teal curtains slide and sink the room into darkness.

My walk in closet is stuffed with all kinds of clothes, most of them sent by Elizabeth from London. She's gone all out, apparently, because there isn't an _inch_ of free space in sight. Coats, dresses, suits, jeans, blouses, T-shirts (both short and long sleeved), shoes… it's madness! I could wear something different each day and still have clothes left after a year.

As the daughter of Stephen Clayton, I'm used to people paying a _lot_ of attention to what I wear on each day. I have to look polished to perfection and I always have to wear designer labels. Most of the clothes aren't even paid for. The simple fact that most of the pictures the paps took ended up in magazines made designers send their entire collections to Elizabeth Morgan, my personal stylist. From there on, she would decide which clothes fit my style and which ones were donated.

I sigh and grab my usual attire: cotton gray sweatpants that hang low on my hips and a white V neck T-shirt. I put on some socks and slip into a pair of sneakers and step out of my room in search of Luke.

I find him in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

"Good morning, Ana. Would you like some tea?"

"Good morning. Yes, please."

Soon enough, I have a steaming cup of green tea set in front of me and an omelet.

"Thank you."

I dig in and finish my breakfast in record time while Luke watches me with a smile on his face and twinkling eyes. He's happy that I'm happy. He's happy that I'm away from prying eyes and, my guess, from Christian Grey.

"So... what are our plans for today?"

"I promised Kate she could come and visit today. Since the weather is so nice, I thought we could sit by the pool and relax for a bit." I say and watch Luke's face for a sign that he might disagree. I don't find any and breathe out a sigh of relief. Luke's opinion is very important to me, even though I have been questioning his intentions during these past two weeks. The fact that he keeps a cool head and plans ahead was what I usually lacked in the past. My rebellious years almost gave him gray hairs but a lot of things have changed during the last two years.

"I see. You're going to tell her about..." He trails off but raises his eyebrows.

"Yes. I plan to tell her about the marks and scars but I shall leave it at that. I won't tell her who made them."

"Something tells me that Miss Kavanagh won't just sit by and let you run the show." Luke comments and my back stiffens instantly.

"Luke, she's my friend. The only female friend I have except for Samantha. I can't hide from this forever. And I trust that she will respect my boundaries and won't push for more."

"It would be so much easier in the UK where everyone knows what happened and you wouldn't have to hide like this." He says with a heavy sigh and I mentally agree with him. It would be easier but I'm not there so I have to make do with what I'm being given and stop whining about it.

* * *

"Ana, this is Natalie. She is the housekeeper and cook and everything else that's needed. And this is Jim. Jim is the gardener and also takes care of the pool outside and the small koi pool off the terrace."

They stare at me. Better said, they stare at the marks on my arms and it takes everything within me to stay put and not run away and lock myself somewhere private and never come out. _Oh, how easy that would be..._

"Hello."

My voice is small but it still bounces off the walls of the office where Luke has taken residence.

They have yet to reply and, as the moments tick by, I grow wearier of their reactions. I had insisted that they don't sign a NDA, not wanting to put them in a tight position but I'm starting to doubt my decision.

_You have to trust people, Anastasia._

That's what Will said and that's what I planned to do.

Natalie is the first to snap out of her thoughts and offers me a sad smile. It's not the pity look I was expecting so it's a refreshing change of pace. I timidly smile back at her and offer my right hand for a handshake. Her handshake is brief but strong which tells me that she's got a non-sense attitude. I'm starting to like her already.

Jim, on the other hand, continues to stare at me until Natalie nudges him with her elbow. He wakes from his daze and blushes furiously, looking everywhere except at me.

Luke chuckles and that triggers a string on giggles from my side.

Jim's handshake is longer than Natalie's but still shorter than usual. I suppress a sigh and take a seat on the leather couch behind me. They follow suit.

I breathe in and look at them for a few moments before deciding to jump head first into a very _uncomfortable_ discussion.

"I know this may come as a shock. You are not the first people to stare at my arms and wrists and wonder but I have no plans of talking about it. Take it as it is. Suffice to say that I have not done this to myself. I am not an addict nor will I tolerate the use of illegal substances in this house. Your contract shall be terminated instantly if I find out about the breach of this rule." I say and throw a stern look meant to convey my message. They nod back and I relax into my seat and throw in a small smile for reassurance.

"As far as I could see yesterday, the house, as well as the gardens surrounding it, is in perfect condition and I would like to thank you for keeping it that way. I hope we shall get along nicely. I am accustomed to having a staff to take care of a house but I'm also a very 'hands on' type of person. Any questions you might have, come look for me or Luke.

"And last, but not least, I would appreciate if you could keep the knowledge of what happens inside this house to yourselves. You did not sign a NDA because I want this relationship between us to be based on trust. I trust you to make good judgment calls in any situation and this right here is just another example of that. I don't want people to know about my scars. I don't want people to know I live here unless they have a good reason to do so. Privacy is very important to me and I hope you will take it very seriously.

"This being said, it is nice to meet you and I hope we shall have a good relationship." I say and give them a brief smile. _Meeting over!_

"Oh my God! This is... amazing!"

Kate is currently spinning around and I'm starting to worry that she'll lose her footing once she stops doing that. "You have a koi pond!" She gasps and stares at the multicolored fish as if they're aliens.

To say that Kate is impressed would be the understatement of the century.

"Steele, you are loaded!" Kate shouts and I cringe back. Natalie, who is currently setting the table stops dead in her actions for a few seconds before she resumes her tasks with a smirk.

"Love, could you please keep it down? I don't want the people from the golf club to hear you." I hiss.

She smiles sheepishly and gives me a brief nod.

"After lunch, I thought we could sit by the pool and enjoy the sun for a few hours. How does that sound?" I ask with a hopeful voice in spite of the pit in my stomach. I have to tell her about my marks and something tells me that it will not go smoothly.

"Sure. As long as you can lend me a bathing suit."

I smile.

"I think we can work something out." I say and think back to my closet. I'm more than _sure _that we will find something suitable for her.

Lunch goes by uneventful and much too soon for my liking, both Kate and I are wearing our bathing suits and silk robes as we head towards the pool behind the house.

I take a seat on one of the lounges and breathe deeply a few times to gather my courage. It's the second time today that I'll allow someone to analyze my scars and I'm a little on the anxious side. Kate's reaction could be bad and I'm not sure yet how that would affect our relationship. _But it could also be good._ My subconscious whispers and I try desperately to believe it.

_Visualize the outcome that you want to get and do your best to make it a reality, Anastasia._

_Good advice, William._

I turn to attention back on Kate and see that she has already shed the robe and is looking at the pool with longing.

"Kate… before you jump into the pool, I'd like to talk to you about something."

The tone of my voice has Kate frowning and she gingerly lowers herself onto the lounge next to mine.

"What is it?"

I keep eye contact with her as I untie my robe and remove the leather cuffs that cover my wrists. She gasps. I jump to speak before the questions start pouring from her mouth.

"Kate… you are a very dear friend of mine and you've been my rock during difficult times without even knowing it. What I'm showing you right now is a very… private part of me that I try very hard to keep away from the public eye. However, it's best if you see this now and not find out from the press." I say and watch her reaction like a hawk.

"What happened to you?" She breathes out as her eyes remain glued to my wrists. I do my best to keep still under her scrutinizing gaze. It's no easy task when ever cell in your body is in full _flight_ mode. I do my best to reel it in and focus on Kate. She's not here to hurt me or seek answers. She's just my friend and it's normal for her to want to know what has happened to me. But I can't talk about it. I made a promise to Stephen and it's a promise I'll take with me in the grave.

"I can't really talk about it, Kate." I murmur and look away from her intense stare.

Silence settles over us as I gaze at the pool and Kate is probably thinking about all kinds of scenarios. She already knows about my connection to Stephen Clayton and I'd venture to guess that she already read about Paul's death. It would only take a few words from my part to connect the dots inside her head. _But you've made a promise to Stephen, Anastasia. You have to keep it._ My subconscious whispers. I press my lips tightly, stopping the flow of words that would make me break my promise to Stephen.

"Tell me he got what he deserved." She finally says after a few minutes. My heart shatters and tears fill my eyes instantly.

"I can't say that with a clear conscience, Kate." I whisper, my throat almost closed and my lungs constricted.

"Oh, Ana!" She breathes and draws me into a very tight hug that breaks down the last wall I had around Kate. I start crying, unable to keep all the bottled emotions under control anymore. I cry, wail, scream and everything pours out like poison from a wound. It's refreshing, in a way. _But so painful._

"It's okay, it's okay. You're okay now." Kate whispers into my hair and rocks me gently as I finally allow myself the chance to mourn the death of my step-brother.

If people would know what really happened, and how my step-brother died, they would judge him. They would try and find a connection. They would try and figure out why Paul did what he did. So, I guess, in a way, I am also protecting myself, not just the Clayton Empire.

We sit like that for what feels like hours but Kate doesn't seem to mind and my clingy side is enjoying every second of her tight hug. Touching is not taboo to me but my lonely living arrangements and general attitude towards people around me haven't given me the chance to do this too often.

"He killed himself, Kate." I murmur, my voice hoarse and scratchy. "And that's not the end of the story." I continue and look up into her green eyes that are filled with such tenderness it almost brings me down to my knees.

I make the decision to tell her everything, except for the identity of my captor.

"I stayed with his body for four days before Luke found us." I whisper and stare into her emerald eyes to get a better read on her emotions.

My words shock Kate into silence. It's very rare that I get to see this part of her but I'm not focused on that. I'm focused on her reaction once she snaps out of it.

"Ana… I… Oh my God! No wonder you dumped everything and flew across the ocean!" Kate says with tears filling her eyes and spilling freely.

Tears are falling from her eyes and splash onto the white fabric on the lounge. I want to hold her and tell her that it's okay, that I'm better now and that she mustn't cry for me but I can't. My vocal cords are frozen. I'm stuck in this moment and its meaning. I've let her in completely and I know deep down that I'm never going to regret this decision. Kate may be pushy, a total airhead and sometimes selfish but she's fiercely loyal and my opening up to her has sealed the deal for our friendship.

"Thank you. For trusting and sharing this with me." She whispers and hugs me once again. I relax into her embrace and feel as if a huge rock has been lifted from my shoulders. _Telling the truth usually has that effect on people. _

The rest of Kate's visit is spent swimming and lounging in the sun. We don't talk about my marks, about Stephen or Paul but she does ask me about Grey.

"I heard you had a chilling welcome at the Grey Mansion. What's up with that?" Kate asks suddenly.

I finish sipping on my iced lemonade and shrug.

"Grey's an ass. He's pissed by that interview when I basically called him boring and said that he sets himself up for failure. Ever since then, he's been stalking me and doing all these annoying things that just piss me off. But I'm over that. I won't let him under my skin anymore. As far as I'm concerned, I've paid my dues to him with interest."

"What did you do?" She asks, genuinely interested.

I take a moment to think about my approach.

"Luke and I had a deal before I came here in the States. He promised he would back off and leave me be and I promised him he could come if anyone got too close to me. So when you met Luke that Friday night, he had a job to do. Someone was sniffing around my past and that raised some flags." I say carefully.

Kate frowns.

"Who?"

"Christian Grey." I reply and watch as Kate's mouth opens in a perfect 'o'. A fire appears in her eyes and something tells me Kate also has a bone to pick with Christian Grey. _Interesting!_

"He ordered a background check on you, didn't he? He did the same thing with me but Elliot got into a fight with him over it and he shredded it." Kate tells me and shakes her head as if she can't believe it's actually a thing. Apparently, it _is_ a very normal thing for Christian Grey.

"He's a bloody control freak, isn't he?" I ask, genuinely surprised that he would do that to his own brother.

"Oh, yeah. He wanted Elliot to dump me because, apparently, I wasn't good enough."

I sit there stunned for a few moments as I try to process everything. I am truly convinced that he is a control freak and a megalomaniac who knows absolutely no boundaries.

"He knows." I say and it takes Kate a minute to understand what I mean by that but once it registers, her eyes are blazing. _Okay, maybe telling Kate _everything _may not have been the right move._ My subconscious notes.

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

I gulp in a mouthful of air before replying.

"I saw him the Saturday after the interview. He just happened to be in the same area where I was and stopped for a coffee." I say with a raised eyebrow.

"You and I both know that Christian Grey doesn't do anything out of the blue. Spontaneity is not one of his qualities." Kate points out with a knowing look.

I nod.

"I know. He saw the scars on my wrists and the track marks and I knew I had to do something or else he would keep digging and I would have no control over the information he might have found. So I did it on my terms and I get to hold it above his head. It's a private matter and I've warned him that Stephen would have his head if word leaks to the press by _accident._" I say and raise my eyebrows at the end of my sentence.

Kate nods vigorously.

"Of course! Information like this in the wrong hands… The press would have a fucking field day with this. Forget a day! More like a damn year! I would know since my dad owns a media company."

"Exactly. The fewer people know, the better. Back in the UK, a photographer managed to get in my private room and he took pictures. They were quite… gruesome. He sold them for a lot of money and a tabloid got their hands of it. Stephen sued them and it took a while before the pictures were taken down and I received an official apology from the owner of the tabloid. They're all gone now but the embers are still there. A picture could start the fire once again. Of course, there's also the possibility that people could talk about it to get their 15 minutes of fame." I murmur but Kate still catches it.

"Who are you talking about?"

"My mother." I say with a sigh and fortunately, Kate only nods and drops it. Seems I still have some luck on my side. The last thing I need is a talk about my non-existent mother-daughter relationship that I have going on with Carla.

Kate leaves around 4 PM and I send Luke with her since she needs a ride to the airport. She looks up at him with a different look in her eyes now that she knows just how close Luke and I are. She actually smiles as him when she sees him coming to inform us that she better go if she still wants to catch her flight which is scheduled for 7 PM. I hug her and wish her a happy holiday and she promises to keep in contact.

"Mademoiselle, a Christian Grey is here to see you." Natalie informs me just as I finish a round of 50 pools laps and make my way to the lounge chair.

Swimming has always helped me clear my head and it's exactly what I need to get my mind off my heavy talk with Kate. It helps me focus my attention on breathing, on the slight burn in my muscles and lungs, on the slight pressure of the water. It's a very healthy distraction which helps me push away thoughts until I will be able to deal with them.

I stop and I'm about to tell her to get Luke to handle Christian Grey when I remember that Luke left with Kate just a half an hour prior. _Shit!_

In moments such as this one, I'm regretting the fact that I haven't taken Luke up on his offer to get more security. _Oh, snap out of it, Anastasia! You can't hide forever from him! The sooner you face him, the better._ My subconscious yells at me and I almost winch visibly. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the storm Grey usually is.

"Send him here, Natalie." I say with a sigh and it makes her look at me for a few moments before she nods and leaves.

I take off the swim cap and massage my scalp for a few seconds before I gulp down my glass of lemonade.

The sound of his shoes alerts me to his presence and I come face to face with the gray eyed, bronze haired Adonis that Christian Grey is. I can almost feel my nipples hardening as his blazing eyes take a mental inventory of my traitorous body. I slip on the robe and cross my hands. His gaze snaps up and there's a small smirk on his lips.

"Hello, Anastasia."

His burning gaze has me locked in place, unable to move or do anything that could put some distance between us. He looks at me like I'm something to eat. I suppress a shiver and try to get my emotions under control. _Why is he here?_

"Hello." I say with a flat voice and stare right back with a cold look.

We stay like this for a few minutes, the silence stretching between us and covering us like a thick blanket. He's staring at me and I'm not backing off. I'm standing my ground even though there's something in his eyes that almost has me running away. _He's a predator. You're the prey, _my subconscious states in a matter-of-factly voice.

My eyes narrow.

"You make a habit of dropping by without prior arrangements?" I hiss and watch as his stance hardens.

_You've picked the wrong location to get into a fight with me, Grey._

"I'm sorry. Does it bother you?" He replies softly and I'm momentarily stunned.

It takes a few moments for me to get my thoughts under control. His presence has this power over me, this… longing that I'm fighting against with everything within me. It's more than just lust. It's his darkness calling out to mine, his shadows circling me, drawing me in with his sly grins and blazing eyes. He's the perfect dark knight that any maiden would like to tame and bring back into the light. I can see the appeal. We all want the forbidden fruit. But what I don't understand is why I've turned into the forbidden fruit for him. He doesn't seem to like my presence yet he seeks me out. He has seen the marks on my body and still wants… _more._ But I know that _more_ won't be enough to keep us both afloat. He'll tire of my demons and drop me like yesterday's news. He's the only man who knows what my past hides – except for Luke, Stephen and Ethan.

The thought is unnerving.

"Yes. It does." I reply and look into his eyes, examining the emotions I see there.

Grey's stance softens and he takes a few steps in my direction until he's in front of a lounge chair. He drops onto it and locks eyes with me once again. His eyes are the only ones that give away the storm of thoughts inside his head.

"I apologize." He whispers as he continues to stare into my eyes as if he were under a spell.

I shake my head.

"For me to accept your apologies, they'd have to be sincere." I say, whispering the words as I lock eyes with him.

"I apologize for everything and I mean it, Anastasia. I didn't mean to bring something so painful back from your past. I didn't know. I still don't know but that doesn't matter anymore. If finding out what happened is going to bring back even more painful memories from your past, then I don't want to know. But I want to know _you._"

His stare is intense and those gray orbs… looking at me like this… I am lost for words.

"Why are you here?" I breathe out and watch him closely, ready to bolt at any sudden move.

"I came here because I wanted, _needed_, to see you." He replies, his gaze intense.

"You're worse than a stalker." I say and roll my eyes.

My words amuse him and he chuckles darkly.

"I suppose you're right." He says with an indifferent shrug. I bet he's been called worse.

"You should see a shrink." I throw back.

"I am."

"You should ask for a second opinion."

"He is the second opinion."

"You should listen to your shrink."

"I'll do my best."

"We both know that's not nearly enough." I say and lock eyes with Grey once again. An emotion flickers through his eyes but it's too quick for me to make sense of it.

"You're right."

I huff out of sheer frustration and sit on the chaise lounge next to his.

"Why are you _really_ here?"

"Anastasia..."

He sits up from the chaise lounge and steps further into my personal space while I watch and keep still. He's close enough to touch, if I desire but I clench my fists. He's close enough to smell but I hold my breath. He's close enough to kiss but I purse my lips and stare at him. My name on his lips sounds so good. He's enchanting. Every inch of him draws me in like a moth to a flame. But, unlike a moth, I know better than to get too close. I close my eyes, hoping that by breaking eye contact, I'll be able to get my emotions under control. It isn't working.

I sit up from my seat and try to put a few feet between us but he just takes a few more steps with those long and lean legs and we're back to square one. It's like we're two magnets: never touching but always close enough.

"There's something about you, Anastasia. I can't stay away from you even though I know I should. I'm attracted to you. And it's something I have never felt before."

He speaks and looks away, running both his hands through his unruly hair. I can see the muscles clenching and un-clenching underneath his white linen shirt. I don't know how I managed to miss it before but Christian Grey is... attractive. I have thought about him as sin personified, as a god that mortals could not touch but not as a man within my reach. But he is. He's so close I can taste his breath on my lips. His words coil around me, like smoke. He's attracted to me. _Is this how normal people act when they're attracted to someone?_

"What happened to the usual dinner and movie?" I whisper before my filter kicks in and stops the words from spilling from my mouth.

He laughs and I'm captivated by the sound. I take him in as he does this. He looks years younger, carefree, with no hidden agenda or future plans. My heart beats faster at the sight before me.

"You're right." Grey says as soon as he stops laughing and catches his breath. "I've been doing this all wrong, haven't I? I'm a little twisted like that." He adds with a chuckle.

A smile creeps its way to my lips.

"I think you're more twisted than you let on, Mr. Grey. But you're in luck. I'm not exactly the textbook definition of _normal_." I say and giggle.

"That's a lovely sound." He says and I immediately stop. He's right in front of me, a smoldering look in those gray orbs. I can hardly remember how to breathe.

"Can I kiss you, Anastasia?" He breathes out and my knees almost give out.

Who in their right minds would say no? _Who in their right minds would say yes?_ My subconscious replies without missing a beat. There's a war going on inside my head. My reason is screaming no, while my hormones are screaming the exact opposite.

Grey is done waiting and leans in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss that takes my breath away. I'm frozen to the spot, unable to snap out of my stupor. Christian Grey is kissing me. _And you're enjoying every moment, don't deny it, Anastasia! _I snap out of my inner dialogue and kiss him back timidly but Grey has none of that. He traces my lower lip with expert precision and plunges his tongue into my mouth when I gasp, grabbing my head to tilt it back.

An image of Paul grabbing my head to keep me from looking away flashes before my eyes, making me gasp and push at his chest to escape. He releases me immediately and takes a few steps back, eyes wide open, a surprised look etched upon his features. But I can't focus on him or his surprise because I'm gasping, fighting the panic attack that threatens to choke me.

I fall on my knees and try to get air into my lungs but I'm unsuccessful. Tears form in the corners of my eyes as I struggle to breathe and fail with each try. I can almost feel Paul's hands wrapped around my throat, chocking me. I claw at my throat, trying to release my neck from his hold but there's nothing there. There are no hands wrapped around my throat, there are no fingers digging into my skin. It's just me and I'm stuck inside my head, a captive of my own mind. And the worst part of all this is that there's no escape.

I can't escape my own mind.

I can't escape _myself._

* * *

**Cliffhanger, anyone? :D  
**

**See you Tuesday!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, guys!**

**That cliffhanger lasted longer than expected. My apologies. Real life sometimes gets in the way even if Manal did give me the OK for the chapter a long time ago. Sorry for the wait.**

**Anyway, here it is!**

**Let me know what you think of it!**

* * *

Ch 10.

Grey's voice sounds like he's underwater. I try to focus on his words but I can't make sense of any of them. It takes what seems to be a few moments before I'm able to understand him.

"Breathe, Anastasia. Deep breaths." He whispers into my ear but I can't follow his instructions. I'm too far gone inside my head. His distorted words reach me but his deep baritone voice does nothing against the demons that have escaped their prison. The lack of air is starting to make me feel dizzy while stars and black spots begin to appear in my line of vision. I'm shaking, a cold sweat covering each inch of my body in a matter of moments.

"Open your eyes, Anastasia." Grey commands but I can't obey his request. "Anastasia, look at me!" He shouts but I'm too far gone. I can't reply or do as he asks, no matter how much I'd like to do as I'm being told.

"Of all the fucking things I could have done, I trigger a fucking panic attack!" Grey screams and I cover my ears to block away the screaming.

_No more screaming, please! I'll do anything, just stop it!_

"Shit! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scream. It's okay. Just try to breathe. You're okay. You're safe. You're safe."

He keeps on reassuring me that there's no one here except for me and him and slowly, my lungs start filling with oxygen. The spots in my vision start to disappear and I stop shaking from the adrenaline rush.

"That's it, Anastasia. Keep breathing. Deep breaths. That's it. Deep breaths." Grey continues to coach me and breathes in the same rhythm as I do. I slowly regain control over my body but the battle with myself has left me exhausted.

_Christian Grey triggered another panic attack and got me out of it on his own. _In any other situation, it would have been funny but right now, it isn't. It's bloody frightening!

"Can I hold you?" He asks suddenly and I take a few moments to consider his question. His touch always sent this shock through my body, as if my heart was being restarted. At this point, I would take anything that would make me feel better, that would make me feel _something._ I nod and the next thing I know, I'm cocooned into his arms, my arms sandwiched between our bodies as I try and grip his flesh, wanting to be sure that he is not a figment of my imagination.

"Felling any better?" He whispers into my hair.

I nod once again, afraid to open my mouth. Not that I could say anything anyway. My throat usually constricts during a panic attack and I can't even breathe, let alone use my vocal cords.

Grey wraps his arms behind my knees and takes a seat on the chaise lounge with me in his lap. He combs his fingers through my long tresses while he hums a soft tune and the action is deeply soothing. I find myself fighting to stay awake but my eyelids are so heavy.

_Maybe I could just rest my eyes for a bit…_

I wake up to the weight of someone pinning me to the mattress. Looking around, I realize I'm in my room and I'm not alone – a mop of bronze hair is resting on my stomach. I'm hot and I can't move because Christian Grey is wrapped around me like a vice, keeping me locked into his arms. My memory is groggy and I don't remember getting into my room. I mindlessly run my fingers through Grey's hair, lightly scratching his scalp with my nails, as I think back to my episode at the pool.

The kiss was... I don't think I could find a word in my vocabulary that could do it justice. But it all came to a halt with that episode.

It's been a while since I've had such an intense panic attack. The memories and feelings felt so _real_… I've relived those two months for so long and so many times that I've come to accept them as a part of me and, as a result, their intensity isn't so high. But today… today, it all went down the drain, right before my eyes and there was no way I could get my grasp back on reality.

_Maybe I should talk to Will about medication…_

The thought makes my muscles freeze in place.

Grey moans and shifts his head.

"Don't stop."

His husky voice startles me. I look down at him and find myself staring into his mesmerizing gray orbs. I resume my earlier ministrations and his eyes close in pure delight.

"What are you thinking about?" He purrs, eyes wide closed. _He's enjoying this._

"My treatment." I reply and look to my right, out the glass wall and into the back garden, before peering back at him.

"What about your treatment?" I don't miss the slight change in his tone. He's curious.

I have his complete attention now, my touch long forgotten. His stare is so intense I swear he could see into the depths of my soul if he wishes to.

I chew on my bottom lip as I try to sort through my thoughts and get them to form a coherent sentence. I went from hating his guts and his cockiness to kissing him in less than ten minutes. _This isn't good, Anastasia._ My subconscious notes and I mentally agree with myself.

"Stop that." He says and gently removes my lip from between my teeth. My lip tingles from his touch. We lock eyes and my breath catches in my throat. There's so much emotion in his eyes, I'm scared to look away or do anything that could break this connection.

"Tell me, Anastasia. What about your treatment?" Grey whispers.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them back, I find him staring at my lips.

"I haven't been following my treatment." I whisper as I lock eyes with him. "I didn't like the way the pills made me feel." I say with a shrug and avoid his stare and the judgment I might find there. "They made me sleepy, groggy… I lost my appetite and I had trouble focusing on even the simplest of tasks. I couldn't function. So I stopped taking them. I stopped following my treatment. I wanted to fight my own battles, without any chemical help. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get myself out of the abyss. And I did. The problem is that some episodes are worse than others. Some triggers are more powerful than others because the memories behind them are stronger. When I was drugged, my memories from those times are hazy at best. Therefore, the episodes are mild. But there are some memories… from when I was sober or in withdrawal… the pain… his hands… wrapped around my neck… the thirst… the hunger…" I choke out and gasp for air.

I shut my eyes and try to push the memories away and the demons back into their cage.

He interlocks his fingers with mine and kisses each knuckle, raising goose bumps up my arms. The distraction works and I'm able to focus on the present once again when I open my eyes.

"I won't let anyone touch you, Anastasia. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise."

And I believe him. Maybe it's the intensity in his eyes. Maybe it's the tone of his voice. Maybe it's the way his body is wrapped around mine. Maybe it's the fact that his touch brings me comfort and anchors me into the present. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I believe him with every cell in my body.

We lock eyes once again and there it is. That magnetic pull that has me gravitating towards him in spite of everything.

Grey's eyes keep going back and forth between my eyes and lips. He leans in closer, giving me time to anticipate his movements and the option to stop this. But I don't want this to stop. Every cell in my body is on fire and it's something I have never felt before. It makes me feel… _alive._ His breath washes over my face and my eyes close on their own accord, anticipating the touch of his soft lips.

This kiss is so different from the first one. It's so tender, so careful and so… cautious. Grey settles himself over my body, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of my face and I run my fingers through his silky tresses, gently tugging him closer. I want to crawl inside him and live forever in this tender moment. I never want it to end. His taste and the feel of him are out of this world!

_He's a drug and you're a recovering addict. Tread carefully, Anastasia…_

A brief knock on the door has us parting and breathing heavily as we look into each other's eyes.

"Yes?" I croak and clear my throat.

"Mademoiselle, votre mère est ici." Natalie says from the other side of the door.

I pale.

_Bloody hell!_

Seeing my mother in the living room is a surreal experience. I can't remember the last time she visited me somewhere or even bothered to talk to me. She would have been the only person I would have allowed to see me in rehab even though, in the back of my mind, I knew she would never come, just like she never did whenever I needed her.

Needless to say, she lived up to my expectations. _And beyond._

Carla's dressed to the nines: hair, make-up, clothes, shoes, bag and accessories – all scream _money_. Not _her_ hard earned money, but Stephen's or maybe someone else's but still... money. Tons of it. _Oh, the perks of being a gold digger…_ I think sourly as I look her up and down.

"Mother."

My voice is as flat as my mood. Even more so, if that's possible. My walls are up, ready to defend me from whatever my mother wants to throw at me this time.

Carla twirls around and takes me in. I'm still in my bathing suit and robe, wrists exposed. She's never seen them like this. As a matter of fact, she's never seen them anything else than perfect. Her eyes widen a fraction but apart from that, her face remains impassive until a fake smile settles on her face. There's no line or wrinkle in sight. I'm impressed. Her plastic surgeon must be making thousands of pounds on a monthly basis.

"Anastasia." She breathes and approaches me, arms in the air as she prepares to hug me.

I take a step back and she stops.

"You remember my name! How nice of you, _mother_!" I spit sarcastically and her face drops. Her eyes shift to Grey and she takes him in, inch by delicious inch. Her pupils dilate and a full smile splits her face in two. My eyes narrow. _Seriously?!_

"Anastasia, introduce us." Carla demands but I merely raise an eyebrow and keep my mouth shut. I cross my hands over my chest and make no move to comply to her request.

"Why are you here?" I ask her, my voice low and menacing. Grey's stance stiffens on my right but I pay him no mind. My mother's presence in this house is a problem that needs solving right now.

"Now, Anastasia… this is not how you treat your mother." She admonishes me with a smile and turns her attention back to Grey. "I came to see you, my only daughter. Don't be rude and introduce us." She says while eyeing Christian Grey with gusto.

I mentally snort at her _perfect_ speech and perfect manners.

"And if I don't?" I reply and pin her with my gaze, daring her to say anything against me in my house. Her attention shifts back to me once again and her eyes narrow. _There's the Carla I remember._

"Eleven years in France and your manners are still horrible." She scoffs. "Carla May Wilks." She says to Grey and offers him her right hand.

_Oh, so it's Wilks now. _My subconscious notes with a bitter voice. It's never nice to know your mother remarried and you weren't even invited to the party. Not that I would have attended but it's the thought that counts, right?

Grey breaks out of his trance and stares at her hand as if it'll bite him. If I were him, I'd also be afraid.

"Christian Grey." He says with a calm voice and reaches out to shake Carla's hand a few moments later.

She pales instantly. I watch as the turns white as a sheet of paper in a matter of moments. Her eyes narrow and her mouth twists into an ugly scowl but I don't have time to comment on her own rudeness because Natalie steps into the living room, a look of worry etched upon her face. I leave Grey to fend for himself and go to Natalie. Surely he can face my mother for a few minutes by himself.

"Natalie?" I whisper as soon as I'm in her hearing range. Her wide eyes meet mine.

"I am_so_ sorry. Luke just arrived and he is very upset that I've allowed your mother to come in. I didn't know... she is your mother... are you mad at me, Mademoiselle?"

She's scared. _Oh, Luke…_

"Natalie." I say and put both my arms on her shoulders and give a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. Luke is just... overprotective." I say with a smile and the tension leaves her body instantly. "Now, please excuse me while I deal with her."

"Of course." She nods and disappears back where she came from.

Lungs full of oxygen and poker face on, I turn around to face my mother. When I reach the middle of the living room, I notice that Grey is white as a ghost while Carla is red as a tomato. _What's going on?_

"Carla. Outside." I tell her and turn my attention to Christian who still looks as if he has seen a ghost. _I wonder what this is about._

"I have to see why she's here. Please excuse us for a few minutes." I whisper and offer him a small smile meant to reassure him. The color returns to his cheeks and he smiles slightly.

"Sure."

In a moment of boldness, I lightly press my lips to his for a second. The contact is instantly soothing and my body relaxes. A deep breath leaves my body as I turn away from Christian and come face to face with my mother who looks like she has just swallowed a lemon.

"Out. Now." My tone is beyond arctic and she follows me without further fuss. Good.

_She is in my house. I rule here and my word is law. I can kick her out anytime. I should have kicked her out already…_

I keep repeating the words until they become a reality inside my head. It's been more than a year since I last saw my mother and if I had my way, I would stay as far away from her as possible. But it seems like Carla has other ideas.

"Why are you really here, mother?" I say through clenched teeth as soon as we pass the magnolias down the path.

"You are to stay away from Christian Grey, Anastasia." She says and I'm immediately on guard. My back straightens instantly and my muscles freeze in place.

"What if I don't want to?" I challenge her.

"Anastasia, this is not up for discussion! Stay away from him!" She screams and my control snaps.

For many years, I've avoided having any real conversation with my mother. I always told myself that it was not the time, that things could turn out for the better next time and that there was no need to talk about painful things just so she could realize that I needed her. For many years, I've been silent, doing what she asked of me – when possible – and avoiding conflict if it was within my power to avoid it. But as I look into my mother's eyes, I know that the girl who did all that is long gone. Things would never be the same between my mother and I after this conversation and I mentally prepare myself for a showdown.

"Fuck you! Your maternal instincts are twenty years too late, _mum_! Guess what? You've missed your chance! You don't get to tell me who I should come in contact with and who I should stay away from!" I scream back at her at the top of my lungs as the last thread snaps. I am unleashed.

I am ready to draw blood.

It's the first time I've ever spoken to my mother this way and she's beyond shocked. She looks like a fish out of water as she tries to come up with a good comeback to my attack. But she can't find anything that could justify her behavior for over twenty years because there _is_ nothing to find. I've given her all the chances one could ever get to make things right and she threw them away without a second thought. She's here to play the part of the perfect mother until she gets what she wants. After that, I shall be nothing more than an inconvenience. The thought makes me even angrier.

"Don't you dare judge me! You have no idea what kind of life I've lived while I did _everything_ for you. I am your mother, whether you like it or not. I raised you, nurtured you… you selfish _girl_!" She yells back at me and I sit and stare at her, stunned beyond words.

She either lives in a parallel Universe where she receives the title of 'Mother of the Year' each year or has taken acting classes in the meantime and I'm not aware of that.

"You do not nurture. You simply _possess_. You want to own, to have and to consume until there's nothing left for you to get anymore. And then you move on to the next person that can give you the world and you repeat the cycle. You are nothing but a _parasite_! I don't know how I could ever entertain the idea that you could become my mother and be everything I needed you to be!" I hiss and take a step in her direction, making her take a step back. Her eyes are wide, filled with shock and another feeling that's foreign to her. _Must be humanity._ I take another step and look into her eyes.

"I needed you when you tore me away from Ray and moved me to a whole different country on a different _continent_. I needed you when I was having trouble making friends because I had been used to the fact that I would never have normality in my life as long as you refused to set roots somewhere. I needed you when I started school and everything was so different from what I had imagined. I needed you when I entertained the idea of having sex with someone and I didn't have who to ask all my questions and share all my emotions. I needed you when my step-brother kidnapped me and took me away from society for almost two months and drugged me out of my mind. I needed you to tell me that everything would be okay!

"Where were you when I needed you, mother?!"

I am screaming at the top of my lungs by the time I finish venting and letting everything come up to the surface and just... explode. _It feels too bloody good!_

Carla is shocked and has yet to open her mouth and defend herself. Not that I expect a viable explanation but it would be nice to see that she cared enough to try and justify her actions. But she keeps quiet and looks at me as if it's the first time she's ever seen me. Granted, I've never raised my voice at her until now. I have never told her about my feelings and how her neglect affected me and my emotional health. It all changed today. I'm exorcising demons right and left. And she has the front row. _I hope she enjoys this. Because I am._

"You broke me." I say and continue my verbal tirade. "You made me the way I am today, unable to form a connection with someone because I've never seen you do it with anyone other than that bitch, Elena Lincoln. Was it easy with her because you are both soul sucking creatures that replace whatever light they find in a person with their own personal brand of hell? Is that it? Should I transform myself into your exact replica so you can look at me and not _through_ me? Is that the secret to finally realizing that you have a daughter that should get your undivided attention?" I scream once again and, once again, Carla is unable to open her mouth and say anything in her defense.

"Because I've tried!" I scream and throw my hands in the air, then start pointing fingers at her. "I've tried _so hard_ to get you to pay attention to me, to love me and want to be a part of my life, the life that you brought on this Earth. And I'm so tired, _mother_!" I spit the word _mother_ as if it leaves a vile taste in my mouth as I utter it. "I am so tired and so... _sick_! It makes me sick to look at you and this… _demon_ that's looking back at me is nothing like the woman who bore me. I refuse to believe that! I refuse to believe that I share the same blood with the woman standing in front of me! You are nothing to me! You are nothing but a bad dream that I can't seem to wake up from!

"You're the only person on this Earth who shares my blood and who is still alive and I wish you were _dead_. You know all my darkest corners where my demons are hiding and you always play them against me. I looked up to you to help me beat them but the only thing you've ever done is drag me further into the dark and feed me to them. Is that your definition of motherhood? Because if it is, let me tell you that you've got it completely wrong!"

By the end of my speech, I'm left breathless and my chest is heaving. I am out of breath. I am out of words to explain my pain. I am out of examples. I am out of my _mind._ I look at her and I can't find an ounce of regret in her features. There's nothing there. It never was. Just a blank stare.

"Say something! Defend yourself! Justify yourself! You can't, can you?" I whisper the last question as I continue to look at my mother and her still form. My throat is raw from all the screaming and a pounding head ache is seconds away from busting my skull open.

I'm shaking and goose bumps cover me from head to toe. It's like an electric current is sweeping through my whole body. I know that Christian Grey is close because his mere presence always brings this reaction from my body but I'm past the point of caring that he heard part of my _conversation_ with my _mother._

"I..."

She raises her hand and covers her mouth as a sob escapes her at the same time my tears start flowing. But my tears are not sad tears. No. They are angry tears mixed with happy ones. I'm angry that it took so long to get all this off my chest and happy that it finally happened. I'm finally able to move forward from this point where my relationship with my mother has kept me for my entire adult life. This is another breakthrough, another item that I can cross off my list and move on to the next one.

"Ana!"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn around to look at him. He's marching towards us with a mix of determination and anger. It takes him less than a minute to reach us and he takes a defensive position in front of me, shielding me from Carla.

"Mrs. Wilks, your presence here makes your written agreement with Sir Stephen Clayton null and void." Luke says with a professional demeanor even though I _know_ he wants nothing more than to grab and drag her out of this house.

Under Luke's veiled threat, Carla comes alive once again. Her entire posture changes. From a defeated pretender to a mighty warrior ready to take on whoever stands in her way. There's a fire blazing in her eyes, something I've _never_ seen before. And, trust me, I've seen every mask Carla May _Wilks_ ever wore. And they weren't few. Nor pretty.

"I don't care about what _Sir _Stephen Clayton offers me. I wanted to see my daughter and there's no one who can deny me that right. Not even your boss!" She hisses at him and I'm impressed once again by my mother. She's a tigress with sharp claws when she wants to be and apparently now is one of those times.

"Mrs. Wilks, you and I both know you're not here _just_ to see your daughter."

I look at Luke and find a smirk on his lips.

But Carla hasn't said her piece yet.

"You don't know _shit_, Luke Sawyer!" Carla bellows. "You couldn't keep her safe the first time and you're doing a piss poor job the second time around!"

Her words hit Luke hard and he averts his eyes. I don't know about him but I've definitely had my fill of Carla's poison.

"Get out." I hiss and her mouth shuts instantly.

"Anastasia…"

"I said, get out!" I scream in her face and Grey steps in and wraps his arms around me to keep me from pouncing on her. His touch barely takes the edge off of my anger.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, Grey." Carla says, her voice low and menacing.

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream at her and start crying out of sheer anger. "You don't know shit about protection! How dare you judge Luke when you've been doing a piss poor job at being a mother all my life?! Who are you to talk about filth when you've been fucking men for money and fortune and more money and more fortune? Get out! I don't want to see you here anymore! _Get out!_" I scream and trash into Grey's arms so I can get away from his restrain but he's too strong and I'm too emotional to think straight.

Carla bows her head and Luke shadows her as she makes her way out of my life for the billionth time.

'_Till next time, mother. _I think sourly as I watch her retreating form, stopping from time to time to look back at me.

"It's OK, it's OK..." Grey keeps on whispering in my hair as I hold on tight, afraid to let go and miss his soothing touch. I am a mess.

_You've been a mess for the past two weeks and you have him to thank for that._ My subconscious snaps, hissing at Grey. In another time and place, I would have agreed. Now, however, after that breakdown and the kiss and a show off with my mother, I'm willing to do whatever it is to just be in his arms for a little while longer.

I fold into myself even further, trying to get away from both my emotions and memories and everything else. It's not working. If only I could stop crying, I could then focus my energy on getting myself together. But the tears won't stop. I have too many to cry for too many people, myself included.

It takes some full ten minutes to get myself under control and it's no easy task. Then again, dealing with my emotions was never a simple task and now is no different.

"Anastasia, what was that?" Grey softly asks.

"That was me speaking up after twenty two years." I mumble into his chest. "It was eating away at me, sucking the life out of me. And if it's something I have learned during therapy is that you can't fight darkness with darkness. You fight it with light." I say as I think back to all the times I got better and felt better about myself only to have my mother's critique put me down all over again.

I've had enough of darkness. I've had enough of _her_ darkness.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and holds me tight. His hug keeps me together, like a broken glass held together by glue. It's only a matter of time before I'll break all over again.

"So you keep saying. What are you sorry for?" I ask and look up at him. He seems lost through memories. I know that look because I see it each time I catch a glimpse of myself. It takes a minute before his gray orbs focus on me. A strange light fills his eyes.

"For everything. I mean it. You were right. I have opened a can of worms that should have been left alone." He murmurs and I drop my gaze again. I nod into his chest. He should have left me alone but he didn't. It's too late for that now.

"My shrink always says that if you keep looking back, you'll never see what's waiting in front of you. So... my advice to you is to stop looking in the past. Stop looking into _my_ past because there's nothing I want to remember from that particular time."

"Does she know the identity of your captors?"

_And we're back to that again!_

My look must have clued him because he quickly raises his hands in defense and apologizes.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop asking about that. But you have to understand, Anastasia... it's fucking hard to just let it go. Those people hurt you. Probably tortured you. And I can't just stand by and..."

"And what? Allow it? Thankfully, that's not an option because it has already _happened._ There's nothing anyone can do about it." I cut in and sigh. "Look, I appreciate it but I'm asking you to put it out of your mind."

"I just don't get it! Your step-father is a powerful man and he could use that power to track anyone down to the ends of the fucking Earth! Yet, when the Scotland Yard announces, not even a month after you were found that they are closing the case because of the lack of conclusive evidence, he doesn't say anything. You were one step away from being killed by an overdose and he just stands there? Un-fucking-believable!"

I can understand where he comes from. I can understand why he would doubt this tactic. People don't just let things like this go. They don't back off and leave the abusers to go on with their lives as if they had done nothing wrong. But this situation was not in the norm. My step-brother had paid the ultimate price: his life.

Grey doesn't know this. He doesn't know that my brother's death and my kidnapping are closely related and I don't want him to know. I don't even want him to _suspect_ it. Does that make me a controlling bitch? Probably. _But it sure beats the alternative._

"Why are you so emotionally invested in this? I'm not the first victim of a kidnapping whose captors have not been found. Where is all this coming from?"

My questions make Christian shut down. I catch a glimpse of it in his eyes before he has a chance to look away.

"It's just... not fair." He replies a few minutes later, his voice and thoughts miles away. I wonder that he's thinking about. I wonder what his demos are.

"It's not the first unfair thing that has happened in this world. It's not even the first unfair thing that has happened to me. But if I continue to focus on that, if I continue to focus on the fact that life in unfair, I wouldn't be doing myself any favors."

He nods but keeps silent for a bit, looking at the green trees that are in my back yard. The atmosphere is peaceful, like the moments that follow a powerful storm. Or maybe it's the way I feel about my conversation with my mother. A storm that has passed, leaving me relieved of a heavy burden.

"Do you think you could get over it?" Christian suddenly asks.

I take a moment to ponder his question. It's only been a little over a year since that faithful day when Luke found me. It feels like decades have passed since that day. It feels like I've been fighting with my newer demons for more than a year. This mental and emotional exhaustion sometimes makes me feel as if I'm a hundred years old, not twenty-two.

"No. It will forever be a part of me. It shaped me into who I am today. Am I better or worse? I don't know. But I can only accept it as it is and take it one day at a time."

My reply is different from what he was expecting. The look in Christian's eyes as I spoke turned from anxious to defeated as each word left my mouth. It only solidifies my belief that Christian Grey has his own personal brand of demons just right around the corner. I can almost picture him sitting at his desk, in that white leather chair, as the demons arise and engulf him into darkness.

My skin breaks out in goose bumps.

"So what's your story, Christian Grey? What demons hide in your head?" I ask, curious and cautious at the same time. The last time I asked him about his darkness, he ended up leaving from my flat in Portland without a glance behind or a goodbye.

"It's a long story." He says with a heavy sigh and hangs his head.

_At least it's a start._ My subconscious offers, a pensive look on her face.

"They usually are." I say, offering him a sad smile as I squeeze his hand a bit. "It's okay. Talk to your shrink about it. I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

"Thanks. It's good to know I haven't blown up my chance at having your presence in my life."

"Christian, I'm going to be honest with you. You have a long way to go before you will have earned my trust. Even now, as we speak all nice and relaxed, a wall separates us. A kiss can't – _won't – _tear it down just like that. Trust is something that people need to work on hard if they want it from me. I am attracted to you but that doesn't mean that I'm going to jump head first into this... thing with you." I say, gesturing at the space between us.

"So we're back to square one?" He asks, looking lost and sad.

I sigh. _This is tougher than I thought._

"Would you have it any other way if you were in my position? Be honest." I say, staring directly into his eyes, challenging him to lie.

"Probably not." He admits with a huff. "So now what?"

"I don't know. Time will tell." I reply just as I spot Luke coming back, full speed ahead, probably to escort Grey out of the premises.

This day has turned out to be more exhausting than I thought.

* * *

**This chapter turned out much more complicated than I initially wanted so yeah... **

**And the next one is even more fucked up!Oh, Ana... you never seem to catch a break, do you?  
**

**See you Friday, peeps!**

**~V**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, everybody!**

**As promised, the update is here! In this chapter, we shall see exactly how well acquainted Ana is with Elena Lincoln. **

**Thank you for all of your reviews, even if it's from Guests who don't sign their comments! They really make my day even though some of you guys sometimes leave me like "?". For example, the last Guest (sorry, I don't know your name) said that **"Ana is kind of a bitch." **and I'm sitting here and wondering why you felt that way. And what do you mean by a bitch? I usually end up asking people to explain themselves just to make sure I got it right the first time... but since I don't have that opportunity here, I'm like... what did I do wrong? **

**Usually (not always) people have this idea that if you start writing something, you're going to have a perfect hero and those around said hero are full of flaws that they need to fix. Then they move on to the next chapter and find that the hero isn't quite as perfect as they first thought. Huge disappointment, I know! But, hey, that's real life! No one's perfect. Does that make them a bitch? Probably not. Having said all this, I respect your opinion and, as proof of that, I've accepted your comment and look forward to some more (I just ask that you put a name somewhere so I know exactly who to talk to in these long ANs, okay?).**

**Oh, and this chapter is Manal's favorite so far. Makes me curious to see if it'll also be your favorite. Let me know ;)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ch 11.

I toss and turn all night, unable to shut my mind off. My mean words, though true, keep repeating themselves inside my head like an echo inside a long, empty cave. I catch glimpses, fractions, distorted sounds that have me waking up in a cold sweat every few hours. Eventually, I give up on sleep and get out of bed. A long, hot shower and a quick change into some black silk pajamas later, I'm ready to leave the comfort of my room.

It's a cold and damp atmosphere outside and the sun is hiding in the clouds, denying me the rays of light that could help me navigate through the maze of my mind. It's a weird feeling, not knowing where to turn and what to do when your mind is no longer protecting you from everything it holds inside. You turn around, look for _anything_ that could be of help but you come up empty handed each time.

You try.

You fail.

You try again.

_You can't find anything because there is nothing to find._ My subconscious replies. Sometimes, I hate her. Mostly because she's always right. She's that part of me that I try to ignore but always finds a way to break through my walls. Infuriating, yet completely useful. The critic and the best friend, all rolled into one snide and sweet voice that inhabits my brain.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." Natalie says as she steps into the kitchen and goes straight for the pot of coffee I have started for her.

"Bonjour, Natalie." I reply and sip my tea carefully.

"Il n'est pas un bon jour, non?" She comments in French, her voice so low I barely hear her.

"Pas du tout." I reply, making her aware that I've heard her.

"Are you feeling better, at least?" Natalie asks, her voice hopeful.

Natalie's accent is thick though her grammar and vocabulary are more than perfect. I often have difficulty understanding her so, most of the time, we just end up speaking in French so we don't waste time repeating ourselves.

I shrug noncommittally. I feel relieved but I don't know how much good that can do after so many years of keeping my thoughts and emotions bottled up only to see them explode in my mother's face.

"I don't know. My thoughts are too jumbled to make sense of them." I murmur into my tea cup as I stare into its contents.

"Sometimes, it is within the storm that we find out just how strong we are. It is only by pushing our limitations that we see just how far we can get. You _have_ come far, Ana. Do not doubt that. But, sometimes, you have to take one step forward and two backwards. That does not make you a loser. It makes you a fighter."

Her words have so much conviction behind them that I find myself nodding before I'm even aware that I'm doing it in the first place. I'm more than aware of the fact that Luke has probably clued her in about certain things, or else she wouldn't feel the need to offer support.

The moment is broken as Luke steps in and announces that Elena Lincoln is waiting for me in the living room. _C'est pas un bon jour! Pas du tout!_ I think bitterly and Natalie looks at me as if I'd uttered the words out loud.

Maybe I did.

Waiting for me in the living room is a tall, elegant, sexy, regal platinum blonde, her hair in a sharp bob that makes her face features even more angular than they already are, due to her constant _diets._ She, just like me, is wearing all black but the difference between us is the fact that I'm young enough to pull it off without looking like Death. She _can't._

One could easily mistake my comment as jealousy. A young girl despising the older woman who probably knows a lot more about her environment and life in general than the young one is almost a cliché.

I've known Elena Lincoln since I was five. Or maybe that's the oldest memory I have of her. Anyway, I remember she was a bitch to me and she kept telling my mother that a child would only inconvenience her if she wanted to get a good husband and keep him. I don't remember my mother saying anything in return but I will always remember the look filled with pure disgust that Elena threw me. Like I was a pest in her way, like I was the only thing sitting between her and the grand prize.

"Elena." I say with a flat voice, making her turn around and analyze me for a whole minute before she breaks into a grin so wide it makes me want to pull back. Those teeth are frightening.

"Anastasia. I see you've managed to rise above your station." Elena says as she takes a look around, painted eyebrows raised in awe.

Her scratchy voice makes me sick to my stomach. Then again, _anything_ about her makes me sick to my stomach.

"Why are you here?" I ask, impatient to get her out of here. Her mere presence contaminates the air around her and I want her gone as fast as possible. _And use a full can of air freshener to get rid of her sickly sweet perfume._

"Oh, no need to be so stuffy, darling. I heard your mother was in the country and I thought I could use the opportunity to catch up." She says with a smile that's anything but true. I can smell the fake from a mile away. I raise an eyebrow and cross my hands in front of my torso, creating a barrier between us.

"She isn't here." I reply with a cold, detached voice even though yesterday's events are trying really hard to break away from the cage I put them in. _Show no emotion._ My subconscious whispers.

"Where is she then?"

"Back in France." _Hopefully._

"So soon?" She says, surprise evident on her face. Frankly, I'm a little surprised the muscles on her skull haven't been completely paralyzed because of all that Botox that she injects herself with. _Good doctors and a lot of money can do that when you don't have good genes._

"Yes." I reply with a cold voice.

"I see…" Elena trails off as she steps into the living room uninvited and stops in front of the fireplace.

"Anything else I can help you with?" I ask her as she keeps her back turned at me and looks deep in thought while she analyzes the small trinkets spread around the library shelves. I want to snap each of her fingers so she won't be able to touch anything.

"Actually, come to think of it, yes. There is something you can help me with."

Elena turns around and throws me a copy of the Seattle Times and Washington Post where the same photo from my graduation is on the front page of both newspapers. I must say, I look good!

_A match made in Heaven? A union between American billionaire, Christian Grey, and Anastasia Steele, the heiress of Clayton International, could form the biggest financial alliance of the century._

I look back at Elena with an impassive look. Why does she suddenly care where my face is splashed? I raise an eyebrow and throw the papers on the coffee table next to one of the couches.

"You can tell me what the fuck you think you're doing, taking pictures with Christian Grey!" She spits the words like a cobra spits venom in the direction of its attacker. I remain impassive. This is old news when it comes to Elena Lincoln, whore extraordinaire. _But what's her connection to Christian Grey?_

"It's a photo from my graduation. Apparently, I've got a photo with Seattle's most wanted bachelor. Do you have a problem with that?" I reply with an unaffected voice even though I have a strong urge to vomit. There's this feeling in the pit of my stomach that just won't go away no matter how many deep breaths I take.

"You stay away from him, you little bitch!" She screams as she takes a menacing step in my direction.

_What the fuck?_

"Whoa! What _is _your problem?" I growl and she narrows her eyes in response.

"That fine specimen of a man belongs to me, _Anastasia_! I don't want you near him. Better yet, if you happen to be on the same side of the street as he is, cross it!" Elena says in a voice that should have me covering back in fear if it were anyone else but her. But she's just a dog that barks and doesn't have the courage to bite, afraid to get kicked in the face.

"I beg your pardon? Since when do you think you can order me around like one of your subs?!"

I am appalled by her behavior and her guts to come into my house and start bossing me around, telling me who I should be talking to and who I should avoid. Granted, my relationship with Christian Grey is not in its best place right now and it may never get in a better place with his attitude and all the things he does on a daily basis challenge every last bit of patience that I have but still…

_Is it really a relationship?_ My subconscious asks with a pensive look on her face. I take a few moments to ponder her question but I can't really answer. Whatever is going on between me and Christian Grey is fucked up because I am fucked up and I need to get myself better before even thinking about him as something more than a control freak. Okay, so maybe he's a little fucked up too. _Maybe a little more._

"See, that's the thing. You have no chance of catching his eye because you aren't a part of that."

I am confused. I frown and tilt my head to the side.

"I don't understand." I say softly, curiosity coating my words.

She snorts in a very unladylike fashion and gives me a sinister grin that almost has me cringing back just so I can get away from her. But I'm too curious to let this go. _Curiosity killed the cat, Anastasia._ My subconscious reminds me but I shut her up.

"Of course you don't. You don't belong to the same lifestyle as _us_."

I am positive all color has drained from my face. _He… no! No!_ Elena looks at me with a smug look, the look of a victor. _No!_ Carla's words keep replaying through my head and it hits me. She knew about Grey! She knew about his… lifestyle. That's why she paled when he introduced himself. That's why she was so flushed when I returned to them once I finished speaking to Natalie. That's why she didn't want him to touch me. _Carla knew!_

Bloody hell!

"I see you didn't know that. I'm glad I was able to sort out that little misunderstanding before you made plans for hearts and flowers when it comes to _my _Christian. You see, you could never give him what he craves, satisfy him the way I was able to and give him what he needs, like I do." She sneers and it takes everything within me to stop myself from vomiting.

It takes me a minute to find my voice and be able to form a coherent thought worth speaking.

"Then why do you feel threatened?" I fire back but my words lack the conviction to back them up.

"Threatened?" Elena asks and laughs, her ugly voice echoing through the massive living room. I resist the urge to cringe back.

"Why else would you come to _my_ house and stake your claim on Grey just because you saw a photo of us together at a graduation where he was invited to hand out the degrees? If that's not jealousy, I don't know what is." I continue to challenge her. _What are you doing, Anastasia?_ My subconscious chides me. _You should be looking for ways to get her out, not sit and chat over a cup of tea._

"Jealousy is for idiots who feel the control slipping through their fingers. I _control_ him." She sneers.

"Well then, there's no need to think you could lose him. And there's no need to think he would like to… kiss me." I reply with an arctic tone and a smirk as her mouth opens in a perfect O. _Perfect for a good head!_ My subconscious snorts. I bite back a smile as I watch Elena get worked up as the seconds pass by. But my smile fades when I think that she could have blown Grey with that mouth. _I'm going to be sick!_

"Look here, you little bitch! You are to stay away from him, do you understand me? I've been grooming him ever since he was fifteen and you are not going to destroy all my hard work, are we clear?"

Her words knock the wind from my lungs. _Fifteen? He was fifteen when she sunk her claws into him? No wonder he's so fucked up!_ My subconscious whispers and I mentally agree with her. I rake my brain trying to figure out if I have stumbled upon information about him from that period but I come up empty-handed. I keep silent as Elena launches into a monologue meant to reassure the both of us that Christian is off-limits. _No need to say anything else, Elena. Got your message loud and clear. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole even if I get paid._

"He had so much pent-up anger and those teenage hormones weren't helping. All that sexual tension… mmmm… I get all hot and bothered just thinking about it. Of course, Grace didn't know what to do to get him to stop going down that destructive path. But I saw the rough diamond that he was. I saw all the money I could get from him if he focused and used that brain for something more than just figuring out how to beat someone up because they touched his chest or back. And I was right. Look how far he's gotten at such a young age!"

I tune her out once I hear about his chest and back. _I touched him and nothing happened!_

"It was _so_ easy! Grace, being the best friend that she is, told me all about his crack whore mother and her pimp who used to put out his cigarettes on his chest and back. I had all the information I needed to get Christian to heel without him even knowing it. It was like taking candy from a kid! A very gullible kid. I guided him, made him the man he is today. He is the best lover I've ever had and a strong friendship like ours can always turn back into a very _passionate_ relationship. And if you think you can just waltz in and ruin that, you are sorely mistaken, you little whore!"

I suppress a shiver as my mind starts picturing just how _passionate_ their relationship was. _God! I need some bloody bleach!_ _ASAP!_

"Has he seen the marks on your arms?" Elena asks and gestures towards my scars and track marks with a disgusted look. "You're a heroin addict, aren't you? Just like his mother. You repulse him. You're nothing more than a pathetic use of space and of Stephen's money. I bet you even fuck him so he can support your habit!" She shouts in my face with a wicked grin.

Her words make me see red and when the red haze disappears, I find myself with both my hands wrapped around her neck, crushing her windpipe as she chokes in her attempt to get air into her lungs. I'm mentally stunned and desperately try to remember how I ended up in this position but it's like I blacked out and my body reacted on its own.

"Ana." Luke's voice makes me snap my head to my left, in the direction of his voice. "Let her go."

But I refuse to let her go. I refuse to let her go without giving her some _real _pain. Is this how Linc felt when he broke her left arm, cracked four of her ribs and busted her jaw? Did it feel good to know that he was finally inflicting some pain on someone as evil as she? Someone who only _consumes_ and leaves shells behind like a trail of breadcrumbs? I bet it was _therapeutic_ to know that you're giving someone a taste of their own medicine. She hurt _Christian_. Did Linc know? _It fits the time-frame._ My subconscious replies without missing a beat. Fuck! Is that why they divorced? Because Linc found them mid-fuck? _Oh, God! I'm going to be sick!_

I turn my attention back at the whore as she tries to claw her way out of my hands with her fake nails but, unfortunately for her, her reaction comes a little too late. My own reaction must have surprised her and only now did she wake up from her stupor enough to start fighting for her pitiful life. _It would be so easy to rid this world of this garbage…_ I think to myself as I squeeze her neck a little bit more just for the kick of it, my _real _nails digging into the skin of her throat as her eyes bug out and her skin turns a nice shade of red. I am eerily calm as adrenaline keeps pumping through my veins and fuels my whole body with _hate_ and disgust.

_Doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good._

"I could crush you like the cockroach you are." I hiss through my teeth and her eyes widen as she realizes it wouldn't take much more to keep my word. "You see, if I were a crack whore like you just claimed, I wouldn't be able to do this." I say as I squeeze her neck a little bit tighter just to prove my point before easing the pressure a little bit but not enough to allow her windpipe to carry enough air to her lungs.

My voice is deadly calm, a dominant edge to it that makes Elena shiver. She's just realizing I'm not kidding and I keep my word, taking no prisoners in the process.

"The thing is, the muscles in my body are _far_ more developed than yours so there's no point in trying to fight me, Elena. Years of working out, ballet and swimming make me your superior. You'll only hurt yourself and all the handiwork of your plastic surgeon would go to waste. We wouldn't want that now, would we?" I hiss and she shakes her head no.

I ease my grip a little bit more.

"Now, where were we?" I continue as if we were having a nice conversation over a cup of afternoon tea, "Oh yes, we were setting some ground rules if you would ever choose to visit me again. If you ever call me a _bitch_, a _whore_ or if you ever insinuate that I'm fucking my step-father, I'm _personally_ going to hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands. Are we clear?" I scream loud enough for my neighbors to hear. She nods her head vigorously even though she has limited space to do so.

"Unlike you, I haven't slept with anyone for money, you old hag. Or did you forget your past, waaaay before Linc? You should think twice before opening that filthy mouth if you know what's good for you." I hiss and watch as she starts to shiver once again. From fear or lack of oxygen, it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that I've got the bitch by the throat, literally. And I'm having such a power trip. I feel like God must feel when he weighs in his options, undecided whether I should let her live or not.

"You know?" She chokes with the little air she has in her lungs.

I smirk.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be the heiress of the Clayton Empire if I didn't take all necessary measures of precaution against garbage like you." I reply with an evil grin on my face. My face changes in a matter of moments as I stare at her with such hatred she whimpers in response. "Now, I want you to answer a question and I want you to be honest or else the marks on your neck will be the least of your concerns." I hiss and she nods weakly. "Good. Was Christian your only underage pet? Were there others after or before him?"

She freezes.

_Shit!_

I squeeze harder and pin her arms away from me with my elbows so she can't try to claw her way out of my grip. "I asked you a question. I am not going to release you until you answer me. And, trust me, _darling_, I am just getting started." I say with a low voice meant to convey just how serious I am. If she did this to anyone else, I'll squeeze then beat the life out of her and there will be nothing Luke could do to stop me. _God is my witness!_

"No." she chokes out but I don't believe her. She would say anything to save her pitiful life.

I squeeze harder.

"You see… I'm having trouble believing that. After all, we both know you would say _anything_ to walk away _alive_. It's what cockroaches do." I hiss and apply a little bit _more_ pressure to her windpipe. She's fighting back, trying to use her upper body to push me back but I'm having none of that. I push back just as hard, my weight pushing her ribs into her lungs, making it difficult for her to try and draw in a breath. "Answer me!" I shout, making her flinch back into the wall behind her.

Elena shakes her head with difficulty due to both her position _and_ lack of oxygen to her brain.

"Good." I croon even though I don't release her neck. "Now listen to me and listen carefully. You are to stay away from me or there will be hell to pay. You will also keep your mouth shut. If you don't, I'll make sure you wished you did. Not even Christian Grey's backing won't keep you safe. Have I made myself clear?"

Her wide eyes are all the answer I need to make sure my message got through that thick, empty skull. _Now, that's better. _I think smugly as I unclench my muscles and stretch my fingers.

I release Elena instantly and roll my shoulders to ease the tension from my muscles. She's struggling to fill her lungs with air as bruises start to form on her throat in the shape of my hands. I glance down at my hands and frown. _I'll need a ton of sanitizer to make sure I didn't catch anything from the bitch._

"Luke, make sure that Mrs. _Martin_ is escorted safely out of my property." I hiss and look down at her as if she were the dirt on my boots. "And come see me afterwards."

"Of course."

I take one last look at Elena's pitiful form and refrain from kicking her in her kidneys in spite of all the adrenaline pumping through my veins that urges me to do so.

"Until we meet again, _Elena._" I say with an eerily calm voice that has a deadly edge to it.

She doesn't look up.

The fresh air of the backyard burns away the adrenaline that cursed through my veins a few minutes prior. I breathe in deeply a few times in an attempt to cleanse away the smell of Elena's sweet perfume from my lungs and turn my eyes to the sky. It's cloudy but there are very few chances of rain. I can't help but compare my situation with the weather outside. It's like my whole life is undecided. To rain or to let the sun shine?

Just when I thought I had control over my emotions and my past, something comes up and pulls the rug from beneath my feet. God damn it!

Elena's confession has me going round in circles. Is Christian Grey pursuing me so that he can get me to be his sub even after everything I gave him? Did he pursue me _before_ he found out about my past? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. It's all just a blur, a mess that's gone out of control. He seemed so honest, so caring… was that just an act?

_I don't think so._

I think back to the sadness I saw in his eyes, all the times when he could have turned against me and, yet, he didn't. He never respected my limits. It's clear as day that he doesn't agree with me or my way of thinking and acting. He keeps pushing at my barriers but steps away when he sees that he's pushed too far. Was it all just a ruse to get me to want him and do everything to _please_ him?

I suppress a shiver and hug myself as I try to get myself to stay warm but my black silk shorts, camisole and matching silk robe do nothing to help me with that particular task.

Over ten minutes must have passed since Luke has taken Elena's arm and dragged her out of the house like the garbage she is and he has yet to come back. _What's keeping him?_

By the time Luke's footsteps can be heard, I'm already speaking, saying out loud the words that have been driving me crazy ever since Elena's venom has entered my bloodstream.

"You know, I always got the feeling that there was more to you being here in the US than Grey snooping through my past."

I am on the couch, staring blankly ahead at the outer glass wall. Luke stops his movements as soon as he hears my voice.

"There are many reasons why I'm here with you. The most important one was that background check." He answers but makes no move to come in my line of vision.

"Because it meant that he was interested in getting me to be his submissive?"

My question hangs in the air. It's full of suppositions and predictions, all of which Luke is already aware of. He knew all of this, from the moment he decided to get on that plane and come here to watch over me. _My friend, my older brother, my companion, my rock._

"You weren't worried that he would find out about Paul. You were worried I would sign a contract with him. You were worried I would become his submissive."

Luke is taking his time and keeping silent in the process. I think he fears that I'll be mad at him, that I'll suspect he's been here just to keep me on a very tight leash and make sure that Anastasia Rose Steele, heiress of everything Clayton related, will not end up being Christian Grey's submissive.

I can honestly say that I understand where he's coming from. Whether we're talking about my emotional health or the future of the Clayton name, one thing remains certain: if I were to become his submissive, it would all go to hell.

"You knew."

Two simple words hang in the air, filling the void between me and Luke with a very odd combination of energies.

"Yes, I did."

Strangely enough, his answer doesn't make me mad. Sure, it would be easy to choose that route and start doubting everything Luke had been doing this past few weeks but that would be stupid. I've known Luke for too long to start doubting his reasoning. And the fact that, even though he knew about Christian, he still allowed me to make my own choices and draw my own conclusions is the ultimate proof that he trusts me. He trusts my judgment even though, at first sight, some of my actions seem a little impulsive or rushed.

"Did you also know that Elena initiated him?"

My words are a bit jumbled and my voice is a bit thick with emotions threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Luke sits down next to me and shakes his head.

"We only knew that he is a silent partner in the Esclava salons but that could have been because of Grace Trevelyan-Grey. So, to answer your question: no."

I nod and get lost within my head once again.

For the first time in my life, I feel grateful for the way my life has played out so far. It doesn't mean that I'm grateful for the kidnapping or anything else that followed after that but because I managed to overcome that big obstacle in my way. I managed to come out stronger and more mature than ever, instead of allowing the darkness to take over me, like Grey has.

And speaking of Grey, I'm more than positive that he doesn't know about Elena's point of view when it comes to their _friendship. _Which begs the question: should he see the footage from the CCTV installed in this house? Should he see just how much _evil_ takes residence inside that black soul of hers?

And if I _do _decide to tell him, how should I break such a news? The mere thought of seeing him again is making me nauseous and a little jumpy. The footage could bring town the last pillars of conviction that he might have left. _People have been known to go crazy over less._

All these thoughts, and millions more, swirl through my head, making my head hurt. Tears spill down my cheeks. I make no move to wipe them. What's the point, anyway? The air in my lungs exits with a long sigh. It's hard to look beyond the fact that my trust has been broken once again and I've got no one to blame but myself.

I missed it all: Luke's careful glances, his protecting actions, my mother's innuendo and her anger at Grey but, above all, I'd missed the magnitude of Grey's demons. I thought I could understand it. I thought I could relate to it. But the truth is, he and I are two very different people. He chose to lose while I did my best to win. He chose to surrender while I made all possible sacrifices to come out a victor.

Slowly, I rise from the couch and do my best to stop the tears. It's not a complete success. Mixed feelings swirl through me, making me gasp for air and shiver. Why am I suffering so much over the _idea _of what Christian and I could have been?

"I'm going to take a long bath and then return to bed. Please make sure I'm not disturbed by anyone."

My voice sounds hollow even to me. I don't understand how I got here. How did I allow myself to get my hopes up? Christian Grey is not the first attractive man to walk in my life this past year yet he's the first one that made me feel this... _empty._ I had great hopes for the two of us and they all came crashing down around me.

Luke nods but looks a little weary as he asks me a question I've been dreading.

"What if Grey comes to visit again?"

I release a long sigh and shrug.

"I promised you I'll do whatever you deem fit. It's time I respect that promise."

_A little too late for that, isn't it, Anastasia? _My subconscious asks but I pay her no mind.

_I've made my bed. Now I have to sleep in it._ I think sourly as I walk back to my room and lock the door. _If only I could lock away the outside world just as easily... _I find myself thinking as I pull the fluffy white covers over me, engulfing me into darkness.

My last thought is about Grey's darkness, his past and current demons.

I almost feel sorry for him but then I remember that keeping Elena in his life was the choice of a fully aware adult.

_It was his choice. Just like backing her on her salons._ My subconscious murmurs, feeling just as exhausted as I am.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**See you... Wednesday? **

**~V**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, everyone!**

**Chapter 12 is finally here! And, my God, it was a hard one to write! 16 pages! Whew!**

**In this chapter, you won't find much going on. Not much action but a lot of introspection. You'll get inside Ana's head some more and I hope this answers a few questions.**

**To my fellow **Guests **who don't agree with Ana in the previous chapter: I see your point of view. **

**As I've already said, Ana is not a perfect hero waiting to save Christian Grey from his demons and save the day. She's fighting her own and she's bound to throw some hard words around when shit hits the fan. I always found it odd that, in the books, Ana was so pissed at Elena for what she did but she never took it to the next level. Each time she tried to say something to Christian, he would put a stop to it and have sex with her to distract her from the subject. It's the main reason why I wanted _this _Ana to find out from Elena. So we could see a normal reaction, a little judgement when she's hot headed and some regret when she calms down and sees everything with clarity. How many times has it happened to all of us? Come on, I know I'm not the only one.  
**

**As for Christian and him being a victim, you already know I see him as such. It's in the plot summary. But it's more than that. I consider Christian a victim because even after years of therapy, after years of having to talk about his past, he's still stuck in it. _That_, in my opinion, is what makes him a victim. And what makes Ana a fighter and a victor, is the fact that she has started working on her past and her demons. She's just as broken as he is _but_ she has chosen to fight and heal. She doesn't see herself as superior to Christian (at east that's not the message I wanted to give) but she _does_ get pissed when she realizes that he's not fighting for himself.**

**And this is the last comment I'll make on this subject because the ANs are getting waaaay too long. Log in or Sign up and we can chat about this in private all you want.**

**Thank you all for all your amazing reviews, the follows and faves and views!**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Ch. 12

As soon as I wake up, I go to the bathroom and head straight for the huge tub and fill it with water. I strip and immerse myself in it until my whole body – head included – is under.

I always liked to be underwater, to hear the silence inside my head, to feel the water's caress all across my skin, washing away all my worries and fears and transporting me into a world where everything seems much... calmer. It always soothed my nerves and helped me reach a state of tranquility that very few other things managed to do. This time, however, it's not enough. The water does block all the sounds from the exterior but there's nothing it can do about the noise inside my head. No matter how much I try, I can't reach that point of quiet, of pleasant loneliness.

A few minutes pass until I have to take a breath but I sit there, under the water, until the last possible moment, making my lungs and head hurt. _If only those were the only parts of my body that hurt._ I think as I find my breath once again. The slight pain in my chest reminds me that I'm still alive, still feeling, still hurting and still _healing. _I relinquish it.

I spent all day yesterday and the entire morning tossing and turning in my bed. I slept, had nightmares, woke up in a sweat with my heart threatening to break out of my chest. I tried to fall back asleep and eventually succeeded, only to wake up again.

_Apply, rinse, repeat. _Several times.

Elena's words keep going round and round inside my head and my imagination is starting to get the better of me at this point. I keep imagining him submitting to her will, doing anything she wanted and the punishment that surely followed when he failed to comply when she raised the bar too far up. Why would someone who had already been punished for things beyond his control want to be punished again for failing his Domme who happened to be a soul sucking monster? Why would he seek out that type of punishment? Did he try to channel the guilt from his childhood into his adult life?

Why relive something that would only bring you emotional pain?

_That's fifty shades of fucked up_. My subconscious offers and I mentally agree. It is a fucked up way of coping with a traumatic childhood. _But a way of coping nonetheless._ The voice inside my head adds a beat later.

True.

I think back to my own coping mechanism. How I pushed everyone away and resorted to all kinds of substances during my teenage years even though I knew it wouldn't do anything to cure the sadness inside me. How I got close to Paul and ended up almost dead because of that bond… I can't help but think that my initial approach – to stay away from everyone – had been a good decision all along. Or maybe I'm just wrong. I _am_ human, after all.

Our pasts are different, of course, but we _did_ receive love, at some point. I was _'adopted'_ by my teachers, Ray and Stephen while Christian was adopted by a real family. We got our chance but it turns out, some wounds are too deep to heal. It turns out, we are too _fucked up_ to heal. Or maybe we're just too hurt to see the other side.

I am trying to get over my issues. I am trying to get things, emotions and reactions under control and it isn't easy. Not by a long shot. I have to fight with myself constantly to remind myself that I deserve happiness, that I deserve attention and love. It just seems like the people I pick to give me what I am entitled to get turn out to be nothing but big disappointments. I have to accept that people may hurt me but they may also become an important part of my life.

There is this need, this _want,_ to erase all knowledge of Christian's past. I want to forget that Elena has had her claws deep into him. I want to forget that he's even more screwed up than me. I want to go back to him holding me and promising that no one would ever hurt me. On the other hand, though, I want to forget everything and go back to the girl who locked herself away from everyone and started to feel better.

_It's all his fault. _My subconscious hisses as she pulls Grey's face in front of my memories. I shut my eyes and rub at them, trying to get his memory far away from me, far away where it will no longer hurt to think of him. I trusted him to tell me _something_, just like I had told him about my mother and my scars. I was wrong. The _one_ person I've allowed to get inside my head turns out to be the one person that I need to keep out. _Bloody awesome! _

I try to push thoughts of Christian Grey as far away as possible. It's hard and it takes a lot of energy to steer my thoughts away from recent news. I think back to the day before yesterday and his support, both physical and mental. Was it all just an act? Was it all a lie? Even my subconscious has trouble replying to this question. No matter how much I try, I can't shake away the warmth that I felt inside while I was in his arms, when his lips were upon mine.

Such a troubled soul... just like me.

_"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."_

His reply from the interview has me going round in circles. If his family consists only in his parents and siblings, where does Elena fit into this picture? How did she manage to sink her claws into him? If he couldn't bear to be touched – if he still can't bear to be touched – how does he fill that void? Touch is very important to someone's emotional and mental health and he's probably lived all his life without a comforting touch. I can't help but wonder how that must be like.

_Stop! Stop Now!_ \- My subconscious is metaphorically screaming at me, arms folded, leaning on one leg and tapping her foot in frustration. _Get out of the tub, out of the room and forget about him... Now! And stop all this self-pitying, wallowing crap. _

By the time I emerge from the bathtub, my skin is wrinkled and my head is hurting like it's about to split open. _Probably from the double personality that I seem to be suffering from... _I think sourly as I go back to all the times the voice inside my head made much more sense than my conscious mind.

I put on some comfortable clothes and emerge from my self-imposed exile. Luke is nowhere to be seen and I mentally breathe out a sigh of relief. The last thing I need right now is for him to observe me as he usually does.

Natalie seems surprised to see me when I step in the kitchen and plop down on a chair.

"Feeling better, Mademoiselle?"

I can tell by the tone of her voice that it's more than chit-chat. Natalie has become Luke's right arm in this house. _Goodie!_ _Another person to keep their eyes on me._

Biting back a snort, I slowly shake my head 'no'. The only thing that could make me feel better would be to erase the past month from my memory and never think of it again. But I have this habit of over-thinking and analyzing each insignificant detail. One day, it's going to do more than just wreck my nerves.

_"There are people who'd say I don't have a heart."_

_"Why would they say that?"_

_"Because they know me well." _

Christian's words circle me and I can't help but ask myself why didn't I see it coming? Just like with Paul, I never seem to just... _see_ until it's too late. Until I was kidnapped. Until my trust was broken again.

_Damn him!_

I look at Natalie. What is going on through her mind? I know that she knows about Elena. She probably heard her screams. She probably heard _my _screams. And here she is, calm as a cucumber, making me a breakfast I don't think I can stomach.

"How much did you hear from my argument with my mother?" I ask Natalie as I try to eat something from the plate she put in front of me.

"Very little. Your private life is _private, _Mademoiselle." She replies as she looks straight into my eyes.

I nod and manage to swallow another bite of food. At this rate, I'm going to turn thirty before eating everything on this plate.

"How much did you hear from my discussion with Elena Lincoln?"

I watch as Natalie tenses, her muscles locking into place as her eyes turn away from mine. In moments such as this one, I'm curious to see what's going on through her mind. What is her take on all the crap she heard yesterday? What would be the take of a _normal_ person on this fucked-up situation?

"Your conversation with Mrs. Lincoln is none of my concern, Mademoiselle."

"Did you hear all of it?" I continue to probe her.

"Yes." Natalie replies as she hangs her head as if she were ashamed. "I heard shouting and Monsieur Sawyer was nowhere to be seen. I thought... I thought she was going to hurt you, Mademoiselle. I..."

"You came to make sure I was okay." I finish for her when it's clear she's too emotional to finish her sentence.

"Yes." Natalie whispers and nods at the same time. "I haven't told anyone, Mademoiselle. I would never do such a thing." She rushes to add.

"I know you won't." I reply and sigh as I rub a hand over my face. "Luke would have your head on a platter. I'm sure he already made you aware of that."

"He did. But his warning was not necessary. I would never betray your trust, Mademoiselle."

And there's that word again: _trust. _

I stare at her for a bit but my mind is miles away. The destination is downtown Seattle, in GEH, where _he _is. Unaware that I know, unaware of the feelings raging inside me, unaware that the bridges are burning. I wonder what would he do if he found out that I know his deepest, darkest secret?

Unlike Christian Trevelyan-Grey, I have not signed any NDA. It would be so easy to let the information spread like wildfire, to bring him down to his knees. But even if I were angry enough to do it, there would still be that small voice in the back of my head, telling me to stop and think it through, to put myself in his position. So I push away those thoughts. Christian Trevelyan-Grey has earned his money through hard work and intelligence. It's the part of his life that he deserves. _The other part is still open for debate._

"Mademoiselle?"

Natalie's voice brings me back into the kitchen. She's looking at me with a foreign emotion in her eyes.

"_On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. _C'est vrai ce que vous avez ecrit, Mademoiselle?"

"Oui. C'est vrai, Natalie." I reply softly as I touch the ink writing on my skin.

"Et qu'est-ce que votre coeur dit?"

_It says that it chose to look further than his demons._

I think back to all those moments, to all those feelings, to those goosebumps, to the feeling of _something more_ beneath his pristine façade... in a way, I _did _know it. I did see his darkness. And I chose to look beyond that. My heart wanted to see something more. Did I delude myself into thinking that or was it the truth?

"I'm hurt."

My voice cracks at the last word that leaves my lips as tears roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away hastily and try to reign the rest of them in. Natalie reaches across the table and grabs my left hand. Her warmth is comforting.

"It's easy to let the anger speak, Anastasia. It's much easier than feeling the sadness and sorrow and hurt. That doesn't make it right. It only makes it easier."

"I want to hate him." I whisper as I peer up from our joined hands into her eyes. I find understanding there, and a bit of sadness. It eases the pain in my chest a bit.

"You like him, Mademoiselle. I say take your time and think about this."

Just as I'm about to reply, Luke comes in, looking a little distressed.

"Ana, William is here. He wants to talk to you."

A few minutes pass until I reply. At this point, I only have two options.

Option #1: get mad at Luke for summoning Will, start screaming and waste my energy before bowing my head and following Luke out of the kitchen.

Option #2: don't take it like I'm a child and everyone takes decisions that concern me without any input from my side and follow Luke out of the kitchen.

Guess which one I took.

I've been on the outside terrace, on the edge of the koi pond for at least ten minutes and I've yet to say something to break the silence. I greeted Will, took a seat and proceeded to keep my mouth shut.

_Great plan so far._ My subconscious snaps and crosses her arms in front of her. Obviously, she wants to talk. _If only I could find my words._ I think as I watch the fish as they swim in their small universe. How simple their life must be! Just swim, eat and enjoy your corner of the Universe. How I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life underwater, far away from all the noise around me. But there's the noise inside my head that I wouldn't be able to escape anyway.

_You can't escape your demons no matter how much you try, Anastasia. You have to own them. _My subconscious whispers, a sad edge to her voice. To _my _voice.

"Luke has insisted that we have a little chat, Ana. He has informed me about the recent events and I agree with him. Talking will get some of the burden off. Would you like that?"

William's gentle coaxing has me offering him a sad smile as I think back to everything that has been going on in the past few days. I never seem to catch a break ever since I've met Christian Trevelyan-Grey. Could that be a sign to stay away from him?

"I had a panic attack on Sunday." I whisper and watch Will 's reactions carefully.

William nods his head slightly, signaling that he already knows about this, and leans forward, towards me, towards my personal space. I resist the urge to draw back a bit.

"What triggered it?"

I pause for a moment before answering, afraid of his reaction.

"Christian grabbed my head as he kissed me. I had a flash from..." I trail off and squeeze my eyes, pushing away the images.

"Was it new?"

"Yes." I whisper.

"How often do you have these flashes?"

"Not too often."

"Are they only from when you were drugged?"

"I think so... they're not very clear but my emotions become erratic."

Will nods and writes something down on his notepad.

"How did you make it stop?"

"Christian did. He coached me out of it." _He got me in it. He got me out of it._

"How did that make you feel?"

"What does it matter? It stopped. Wasn't that the goal?"

"So far, the only other person, except for me, who has been able to get you out of it is Christian Grey. I believe this is more important than you let on, Anastasia."

I nod but I don't reply. It takes a while before I'm able to say anything but, as always, Will is patient and in no rush.

"It doesn't matter now. It's over."

My voice sounds foreign even to my own ears as I say the words out loud.

"The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. You are not indifferent, Anastasia."

"I was not in love with him." I hiss through my clenched teeth as I look away from Will, away from his probing and calculating eyes.

"Then what was it?"

"I don't see how this is relevant."

"Humor me."

_He's not letting this one go, Anastasia! Give him what he wants. _My subconscious whispers and I end up giving in to the voice inside my head.

"I liked him." I whisper and play with my fingers, aware that Will is watching me like a hawk. _I liked him more than anyone yet. I liked the feeling I had when I was in his arms, how complete and calm my world was when he touched me, how that electricity seemed to bring my heart back to life. _I mentally add but refrain from speaking all of this out loud. Saying it would only increase my pain right now.

"More than Nicholas Perry?"

"Maybe." I say with a small shrug. _Maybe you meant to say _definitely_. _My subconscious adds with a snicker.

"I see..." He trails off as he continues to write down in his notepad. I'm starting to lose my patience and we've barely started this session. And it's not even Will's fault. It's all because of me, because I can't seem to unify myself, to accept my feelings. I say one thing out loud and say a completely different thing inside my head. Surely that's not a sign of someone healthy?

"Tell me about your conversation with Elena Lincoln. How was it to see her after all these years?"

"It made me understand why I couldn't stand the sight of her from the beginning." I hiss as I think back to that _monster. _It took everything in me not to kill her, to rid this world of all the filth she brings!

"Luke told me you strangled her and left bruises on her neck."

_Oh, yes! We remember those._ My demons whisper and rub their hands, satisfied with their handiwork.

"Maybe she got off too easy." I whisper but Will catches it anyway.

"What makes you entitled to give out the punishment if that is the case?"

My eyes snap back to his and I'm transported back to our previous session in downtown Portland where I told him about Paul and my near panic attack. When he told me that no one hads the right to judge anyone.

"That woman is evil."

"And, yet, evil exists on this Earth. We all serve a higher purpose."

"She hurt _him._" I hiss as I try to reign in my anger.

"She's not the first to do so. Would you also go after the man who abused him as a child and strangle him too? Or his mother, for not protecting him? Or the man who is his father and he never got to meet? How far would you take it, Anastasia?"

I swallow and meet his eyes.

"As far as I'm able."

I know it deep within my heart that it's true. He hurt me but all I can think of are those that hurt _him._ I must really be fucked up!

"But you don't love him." Will adds with his eyebrows raised and a small smile on his lips. That smug face makes me want to punch something. I look away.

"If I ever did, it's gone now."

"So you keep saying." Will adds and writes something down on his notepad. The page is starting to fill. Soon enough, he'll have to turn the page if he'll want to write some more. "It's only normal to be hurt by something like this. If he would have told you this, you would have reacted differently. Your reaction is mostly due to the fact that Elena Lincoln was the one to tell you this. It's because she knew and you didn't that you did what you did. It's because of you being left in the dark that you're trying to push him away. It's because of that feeling of hurt and surprise that you haven't told him yet about your conversation with Elena Lincoln. Am I right?"

I stare at him, unable to say anything that could make sense even to me.

"You have many feelings to sort through, Anastasia. It's to be expected. You've grown attached to a man who could very well have the power to bring you down to your knees with a simple word. You have similar backgrounds, similar situations, similar triggers. You know him on a level that he probably doesn't even know himself. He's in a fragile state now. Don't judge him. Give him the tools he needs to make his own informed decisions. Give him the power to rule his life, like you're trying to do. And then... move on. You have a journey of your own."

"What about my state? What about my feelings of hurt and betrayal and confusion and sorrow? What about _me_? It's not like I have everything figured out. All my life, I've lived without the nurture of a mother, without the love of those around me. I've made a ton of mistakes and very few friends. Actually, let me rephrase that: I've made _three _friends. One is dead, the other is a former lover and the third one is halfway across the planet! So I ask you: what about _me_?"

By the end of my tirade, I am shouting at the top of my lungs.

"_You _need to keep fighting, Ana. Whether your paths will cross again or not, you have the duty towards yourself to get better. To _be _better. You're not a winner because you've conquered all of your demons but because you've chosen to acknowledge the fact that you have them to begin with. Because you've started facing them and healing._"_

William's soothing voice brings my heart rate back down once again and I take a seat, once again, at the edge of the koi pond, lost in thoughts about Paul, Nick and Sam. I feel so alone, so... abandoned. And I'm the only one to blame.

"Ana?" Will's voice pulls me out of my thoughts and my blurry vision of him gives away the feelings inside me.

"Yes." I whisper, a few moments later, after I've regained some sort of control over my emotions.

"It's very easy to look in you neighbor's garden and point out what they're doing wrong. But that's not you. You deal with your own. You work on your own issues. What changed?"

"I can't... I thought that we could... that I could..."

I'm struggling to find the right words that can describe the mess inside my head and I'm failing horribly. I'm just too over the place to pinpoint what is going on inside my head, inside my heart. My trust and heart have been broken.

Minutes of silence pass as William looks at me with a patience.

"Disappointment is a part of life. Tell me, do you think this will be the last disappointment you will ever encounter?"

"No."

"Yet, you focus on it more than you did on other occasions. What's different about this?"

"I thought... he knew about my past... well most of it anyway. So I thought he would be honest about his, that if he chose to take this further – and he did – he wouldn't leave me in the dark like this."

"Could it be that your anger is misdirected? Could it be that the _real _reason why you're so angry on him for keeping something so painful and raw away from you is because Elena Lincoln has had unlimited access to it while you haven't?"

I keep silent and look out to the edge of the back garden.

"Think about that, Anastasia."

"You're defending him." I say, an edge to my voice that wasn't there before.

"I'm merely pointing out the flaws in your reasoning. Christian Grey is not my patient. You are."

"I gave him what he wanted. I showed him a part of me that no one else knew about except those who were involved in..." I stop and take a deep breath. My feelings of hurt and betrayal are too painful to handle.

"He pushed you in a direction you were afraid to go. Granted, it could have backfired but it also made you see just how much you can push before it becomes too much to handle. Consider it an experiment. Experiments are important because one doesn't fear failure. If an experiment fails, you gain precious knowledge from that. You've gained knowledge from your experiments with Christian Grey. Don't make the mistake of overlooking that."

"He lied." I hiss.

"He won't be the last to do so. We all lie."

I look away. He knows I know that he's right. It doesn't make it easier to swallow, though.

"Tell me about Carla's visit."

"I said some mean but true things. I regret them."

Ever since I had my screaming match with my mother, I've been plagued by thoughts about her. It's only been two days but they have been filled with guilt. Even though everything I said was true and is exactly how I feel about her and my relationship with her, I can't help but feel as though I've done something wrong.

I've said things to my mother that no child should ever say.

"_Th__e only victories which leave no regret are those which are gained over ignorance._ Napoléon Bonaparte. What do you think he meant by that?" Will asks.

"That it's better to be stupid?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the fact that as long as we think about things and their consequences, we will always regret a part of our actions, no matter how right we thought we were at the moment."

"Do you think I was right?"

"I think it was time for you to let go of that burden. Speaking your mind, giving your mother insight over everything that you have been going through was a necessary step. If it's good or bad for her, that's on her."

"What if I've pushed her away for good?"

I had been thinking about this question ever since my mother left, escorted by Luke. I keep second guessing my decision to let it all out, to show her what she's done. She never chose to see but was it my responsibility to throw it into her face?

"You cannot control her, Anastasia. Her actions are her own."

"You don't seem to care about the consequences too much." I note with a bitter edge to my voice.

"The only reason why we're discussing your mother is because you are tied to her. You still love her, you still hope for a change. You haven't given up. It's your main... characteristic." Will says with a small smile on his lips as he stares at me affectionately.

"I think you meant to say _flaw._"

"Some may think of it that way. Do you think it's a flaw?"

"Sometimes."

Will smiles.

"It's good to question our beliefs from time to time, Anastasia. It shows that we are willing to accept changes. Have you changed? Are you ready to give up on your mother?"

"I don't think I could even if I wanted to. She's my only flesh and blood that's still alive."

"Are you giving up on Christian Grey?"

"I don't know. I think he's given up on himself a long time ago, though. In our interview, he said that he had no heart. It doesn't seem like something someone who has a will to heal would ever say. It made me wonder."

"What has changed since you've found out about Christian Grey's past?"

_Many things have changed. _I mentally reply as I look at the fish once again. It made me realize just how sheltered I've been, in spite of everything I've gone through in the past year. Having Stephen Clayton as your step-father does have its perks. _Including being kidnapped by his son._ My subconscious is quick to point out with an arctic tone.

I suppress a shiver and try my best not to go back to those memories.

"My wish to get close to anyone has perished."

"You intend to live the rest of your life in solitude?"

"It would make everything easier."

Natalie's words echo through my head. _That doesn't make it right. _

"Not long ago, you were a fighter. Do you want to revert back into that fearful girl that I met a year ago?"

"No."

"Then, please tell me how this is going to work. You want to isolate yourself. I can understand that. Everyone needs peace and quiet from time to time. However, when it's more than that, you enter dangerous territory, Anastasia. Your history with depression, self-medication and that one time of -"

"I'm not going to do that again!" I cut Will off before he has a chance to speak about that and bring back old and painful memories.

"How can you be sure? What if your episode will be so bad that the only way out will be _that? _Who will be there if you choose to keep everyone and everything away?"

"I'll take care of it."

A moment of silence settles over us. Will has a pensive look on his face, probably thinking of at tactic to make me see things differently. To be honest, it's what I like best about him. He knows when to take it to the friend territory and when to revert back to William Hughes, PhD.

"Anastasia... I am only looking out for your best interest. Ever since Christian Grey has entered the scene, your stress levels have risen. Many would say that is a bad thing. I disagree. Christian Grey challenges you, he triggers images and memories that _need _to be triggered. Locking everything away is not the answer. We need to work on your memories, your triggers, your emotions, your addictions. If you isolate yourself, you'll only push them away, not resolve them."

"I'm fine." I hiss and scrub my hands over my face. _Could we just stop talking about all this?_

"Of all the adjectives I would correlate with you, _fine _is not the one. You're _better _but keep in mind that better can always turn into _worse _if you're not careful." Will points out with a detached voice.

"So what do you suggest? Everything you're telling me now isn't something new. You've told me this time and time again, drilling it into my head until I have no choice but to do what you ask of me." I snap and throw my hands up in frustration. "You know how I feel about everything and you know exactly where to push to get the results you want. What more do you want? I'm a recovering addict. My emotions are all over the place and there are times when the only way to get myself under control is to swim 200 laps until everything inside my aches and begs for me to stop. When I'm mad, I say and think things I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't judge Grey. But all this hurt has to turn into something. I chose anger instead of sadness. Is it easier? Hell yes! Is it right? Maybe not."

Will rises an eyebrow and I go back on my sentence.

"Okay... it's not right. But what are the odds of someone as screwed up as me to make the right decision from the first take? Everyone demands perfection. Patricia wants me to stay out of the public eye. Stephen wants me to take over his empire and be the perfect step-daughter. Elizabeth wants me to dress perfectly each time I'm out and about. Luke wants me to stay out of compromising situations and make his life easier. My mother wants money. You want me to heal and be a normal person. When is it going to stop?"

"What do _you_ want, Anastasia?"

William's question brings my thoughts to a screeching halt.

"I don't know." I whisper.

"How can we find out?" He asks and leans on his forearms.

"I don't know."

My answer brings a sad smile on his lips.

"Anastasia, I'm not here to impose my will over you. I don't want to make you my puppet. Everything I do here is for your own good. Am I pushing you too hard sometimes? Yes. Do I do it for my own good? No. I do it for you. Everything I 'drill into your skull' is something that should have been there in the first place. I'm here as your guide, as your doctor, as your friend. But I cannot be someone who just sits by and watches as you fall off the edge of the cliff. My job is to steer you away from the edge of that cliff."

"I'm tired."

"Fighting your inner demons is never easy. Keep that in mind the next time you think about Christian Grey."

"But he's not fighting!" I shout and close my mouth like a petulant child when Will throws me a stern look.

"That's his business. Not yours."

"Then why did you ask me if I wanted to give up on him?"

"No man is an island, Anastasia. Not even you. Not even Christian Grey. You've grown attached to him in such a short period of time and, to be honest, it's making me rethink everything when it comes down to your ability to form ties to those around you. Your attraction to Christian Grey is a sign that you're beginning to heal on that front. Take pleasure in your victory and see where it takes you."

"You're telling me I shouldn't push him away?"

"I'm merely suggesting that you be honest with him and see where that leads you. You're not in the unknown here. You've been where he is, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"But he hasn't. Maybe that's the reason behind this gravitation towards you."

"What if I find that the only reason he got close to me was to make me his sub?" I say, voicing out my main concern.

"You're always free to go, Anastasia. You're not locked up in a house with someone without the option to leave. You are free. Make use of your freedom and make choices. Make mistakes. Learn from them and try again. It's your life and it could be so beautiful! Accept the grief, the hurt, the pain, the happiness, joy, love... and move on. Let it in. Learn from it. And let it go. Don't let the sadness define you because you aren't sadness, nor darkness."

_I'm not darkness._

"Let your heart guide you. It's rarely wrong."

* * *

**Where will Ana's heart guide her? You shall find your answer this week (depending how fast I can send this to Manal).  
**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~V**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello!**

**Here is chapter 13! Once again, the tide swept me and by the time I finished writing, I'd already reached page 16. This is getting out of hand... **

**In this chapter, Anastasia and Carla will have a heart to heart. Well... somewhere along those lines since Carla has proven she doesn't really have a heart. Can't blame Anastasia for trying, though. Christian will also find out that Ana knows and interesting things will happen in the next chapters. There aren't many details about that particular subject since I'm planning on telling it from CPOV and it would be boring to write it twice, from different POV's.**

**And, speaking on CPOV, I'm in the process of reviewing Chapter 1 in CPOV. The next few days should bring you a treat ;)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ch. 13

I always took pride in the fact that no matter the circumstances, I always did what was expected of me. I raised my chin up high and continued to do whatever was needed to be done. While my mother was off and away, spending Stephen's money, I was by his side at functions, making sure we were photographed with the right people, making sure we presented the picture perfect family that was expected of us.

One could think I loathed it but I didn't. I really had no way of paying Stephen back for everything he did for me all those years. It seemed fitting that I help him with his public image in return. So I smiled in all the appropriate places, participated whenever people wanted me to, wore only designer dresses that got me at least two pages in fashion magazines. I was the perfect step-daughter. And the perfect soon-to-be-wife of anyone who could get me interested. Too bad I stayed away from men as if they had the plague.

For my attitude towards men, the only person that I can think to put the blame on is my mother. Carla went through men like a knife cuts through butter. Even though she was married to an influential man like Stephen, she still got her kicks from wherever she could. She cheated on Stephen and spoke about him as though he owed her some big favor. Carla made me look at the men around me as though they were nothing but an endless supply of grief.

So I stayed away for as long as I could. Until I fell. Hard.

When I first slept with Nicholas, I cried on the bathroom tile while Martha banged on the door, threatening to call my step-father and Luke. When I finally opened the door and she saw me, cheeks full of tear tracks and drops of blood sliding down my thigh, she thought I had been raped. The truth was, I was so scared of the fact that I had given Nicholas the power to dispose of me as he pleased now that he had gotten what he wanted that I ran home, crying my heart out.

I had loved Nicholas ever since I was sixteen and the night I gave him my virginity should have been a happy moment, something to treasure and always remember with fondness. Instead, I looked at it as a moment of weakness. It took Nicholas weeks of begging, convincing and reassurance that he felt the same way about me, that he loved me too, for me to come around.

That was the moment I realized that men weren't the plague. I could find someone whom I could share my feelings with and not get ridiculed by the one person I let my guard down for. Too bad I ended up breaking his heart. _Maybe I am my mother's daughter after all. _

"What makes you think Carla would like to talk to you after your little... confrontation?"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my memories and I glace on my left to meet his eyes. I can hear the skepticism in his voice as I look out the window just as the jet takes off.

The private jet that I'm in is nothing short of extravagant. From the rich carpet that's currently caressing my toes down to the crystal glass filled with scotch that I'm holding. A premium brand, of course. Nothing but the best for Anastasia Rose Steele, future heiress to the Clayton empire that Sir Stephen Clayton has built on the ruins of his ancestors. I bet they're all rolling in their graves at the thought someone as weak as me will carry on their legacy.

"Ana?"

I snap out of my thoughts as I hear my name and look at Luke.

"Yeah..."

He sighs and motions the flight attendant to give us privacy. As soon as she's out of earshot, he begins speaking.

"You had that intense look that always tells me you're thinking of something. What is going on, Anastasia?"

"Do you think I'm weak?"

My voice is soft, almost childlike and my body is ready to close in on itself.

Luke's stance softens and his eyes fill with kindness. He open his arms, holding them so I can come into his embrace. I do so and breathe out a sigh. It feels so good to be in his arms.

"Love... you are one of the strongest people out there. If this is about Grey – and I'm almost certain it is – your trust in him was not an act of weakness. It only shows just how strong you are, trusting someone after everything you went through."

There's honesty and pride in his voice and it makes me smile. I know I'm strong, stronger than I give myself credit but when things like this happen, I always end up second guessing myself. It's an old habit that I can't seem to shake off.

"You're back to second guessing yourself."

There is no judgment in Luke's voice, only sadness, maybe even a hint of anger.

I nod.

"How can I not? You're here to guard me like a dog, to make sure I don't fuck this up and drag Stephen down with me."

"Ana... that's not true. Look... as much as I'd like to start giving you pointers and tell you what to do, I can't. I shouldn't. Will has warned me to let you make your own decisions and mistakes. I'm only here to make sure you are protected and to be of support whenever you need me to be. I'd like to do more. I'd like to hunt Grey down and give him a piece of my mind, to make sure he's never under 100 meters from you but I shouldn't. That's your decision to make. And whatever you decide, I'll be there 100% backing you up no matter what. But you're a grown-up now. I have to accept that."

Luke takes my hands, which were folded in my lap, and squeezes them gently.

"I'm here." He says as he looks at me with such affection it brings tears to my eyes. "Now that we've taken off, go take a nap. Georgia is four hours away."

"I need something first." I say with a determined voice, something Luke doesn't fail to catch immediately.

"What is it?"

"Christian Grey's private e-mail address."

.

I'm woken up twenty minutes before landing and ask for a refill on my glass just as the pilot announces that we need to fasten our seat belts. I drown it all in one gulp and the flight attendant eyes me warily. I merely raise an eyebrow and she scurries away from my line of vision.

I'm going to see my mother just two days after our _discussion_ and it's taking all in me not to ask for another drink. Alcohol usually takes the edge off my nerves and I think it's safe to say I'm beyond nervous right now.

"Remember: I'm here. You are not alone, Anastasia."

It's with Luke's words in mind that I step out of the jet and immediately put on my black sunglasses. There's so much sun! _So different from Seattle and London... _A few moments later, I realize that all this sun and humidity acts like glue to all the heat. I'm immediately drenched but thankful that I took the time to change in the bedroom jet into a pair of white cotton shorts, an emerald top and cream leather gladiator sandals.

Savannah International is big enough to give us privacy and I'm really thankful. The last thing I need is for anyone from the press to find out I'm here to see _mother dearest._

People are busy, rushing everywhere and anywhere to get out of the heat and we soon follow their example. The inside of the airport is much cooler and I take a moment to cool down and just take in the movement around me. So many people, with so many lives, so different and so similar to one another... it's in moments like this that I realize just how small I am. I am a piece of a greater whole and that thought does something to me. It pieces something together inside me and somehow makes me look at the bigger picture. There's more to this world than my personal drama and it's about time I step out of that bubble and gain back my life.

I realize that I'm here not only to seek answers to everything Elena said but for something else, too. Something that is even more important than Elena Lincoln. I'm here to see my mother. Her reappearance in my life has swept the rug from underneath my feet. It's hard to think clearly, to not begin to hope that maybe, just _maybe, _she has changed. That flicker in her eyes when she saw my scars, her attack on Grey...

Above all, she is my mother and it's very possible that I may never be able to give up on her, to give up on the hope that she could once again find that piece inside her that would make her a better person.

_Hope is a feeble thing, Anastasia._ My subconscious reminds me and I clench my fist in return, my nails digging into the palms of my hand and leaving indentations in my skin.

"Ana?"

"Yes."

"The rental is this way. Come."

I snap out of my thoughts and follow Luke dutifully to the car. He's carrying my luggage and still manages to move faster than me, probably because of the heat and that suit he's wearing.

"Why didn't you dress lighter?" I ask as soon as we're both seated in the car. The air conditioning is very welcomed.

"People know who you are now, Anastasia. We're done playing house."

His reply makes me shut my mouth instantly and my mood drops below freezing point. All I can think of is the paparazzi, waiting to get their shot. I can only imagine the headlines, endless articles about how I look, where I had been hiding, the people that I've met, the friends I've made. _Stop it, Anastasia! No one's going to take a bite out of you. _My subconscious admonishes me and I try to breathe through my nose and fight my initial reaction. _Luke is here. Luke will keep me safe._

As we make our way through the traffic, I stare out the window absently. I'm four hours away from Christian Grey. _Speaking of which..._

"Did you get me what I asked you?"

"Yes. When you turn your phone on, you should find it in an e-mail."

"Thank you." I reply softly and resume watching the cars and houses floating by.

_Now you only have to write him an e-mail and send him the proof to back up your words. Shouldn't be too hard. _My subconscious says with a cold edge to her voice.

I have to admit, the thought of Christian Grey finding out that I know is making me feel sick to my stomach. Once I'll tell him, he'll either start hounding me for answers and promises that I won't tell anyone or he'll cut off all ties with me. Neither of those options is very appealing. I need space and I need his trust in me. I need him to trust that I'll keep all knowledge of his past and present away from the public eye. These past two days have been strange without him. It's odd not to be mad at him for something, not to think about his kisses, his fragrance, the way he held me...

_Snap out of it, Anastasia! _

I straighten in my seat and stare right ahead.

"Is she home?"

My voice fills the emptiness that has settled over us. Luke glances at me before he answers.

"Yes. So is her husband."

_Great!_

"What's he like?"

Luke lets out a humorless chuckle and shakes his head slightly.

"He's in his late 40's, rich, established and very in love with her."

"The perfect idiot." I whisper but Luke catches it anyway and snickers. "It's not funny though, is it? Cut off a decade and you get Sir Stephen Clayton in the same position."

The thought makes me shiver. In my mother's case, history repeats itself with little consequence. It makes me wonder if I'll end up like her. It makes me fear that I'll end up like her. Would I end-up chasing a ghost that could fill the void inside me? Could I ever get close to anyone without breaking them in the process?

_What if I'm just like her?_

The random question that pops into my head almost has me cringing back in fear.

"Stephen knew what he was getting himself into. That's why they had a pre-nup."

"How much good did that do him in the end, though? His son is dead and I'm all the way across the ocean, running from memories from that time."

The bitter edge to my voice is clear as day.

"He doesn't blame you, Ana. He loves you enough to let you find your way. I think he's happy as long as you're happy. The fact that you are his only heir shouldn't be a burden but a blessing. The amount of power you'll have at your fingertips is frightening, I can agree. But all that power will be used as you see fit. You have the chance to write on a fresh page in the Clayton book. What you write is up to you."

"No pressure." I mutter sarcastically.

Luke smiles.

"You'll do fine."

_And what if you're wrong? _I ask him with a look but he chooses to ignore it and pay attention to the road. I resume watching as the cars and houses fly-by.

.

The mansion which my mother currently resides is _beyond _huge. All white, Regency-style, spread like a mother's arms ready to engulf you and never let you go. I suppress a shiver at that particular thought.

The car comes to a stop right in front, where a butler is waiting for us, no doubt. I vaguely wonder just how much this resembles Stephen's mansion just outside of London before Luke comes around and opens my door so I can exit the car. I almost roll my eyes at him but I put a stop on that. We are in public here and Luke is, for all intents and purposes, the head of my security. He needs to look the part and I need to look my part.

The butler introduces himself as Benjamin and leads us into the house with little words or fuss. The man seems to work like clockwork. Swiss clockwork. I can't hep but wonder how he feels about my mother's presence in this house or the fact that she's the Ma'am of the house. How does he feel now that he's seen the scars and track marks on my skin? _Maybe I should have wore some accessories to hide them. _I think as I walk down the long hallway.

The opulence inside is almost identical to the one in Grey's penthouse. Everything screams money – old money – and elegance. The interiors are airy and spacious, as well as cool, filled with a pleasant fragrance from all the flowers that fill each room. I have to say, I'm impressed.

We find Carla and her husband in the living room, drinking sweet tea like real southerners. I cringe at the thought of that much sugar poured into a drink.

"Mrs. and Mr. Wilks, Miss Anastasia Steele is here." Benjamin announces us.

I almost say that Luke Sawyer is also here but I bite my tongue and smile pleasantly at the man standing in front of me. He is really handsome!

"Welcome to our humble home, Anastasia. Mr. Sawyer."

"Mr. Wilks, a pleasure to meet you." I murmur and he wastes no time in kissing my hand. _Like a knight in shining armor. _I think as I eye my mother's face over his head.

"Please, call me Andrew."

His voice is light, filled with tenderness. I smile politely and turn my attention on my mother who has yet to say anything. As a matter of fact, she has yet to move from her spot on the white couch. She looks beyond pristine, fitting in perfectly in this picture perfect mansion with her picture perfect husband, living her picture perfect life.

My hands ball into fists. Her eyes flash to them.

"Mother." I say, beckoning her to come closer.

She looks as scared as a lost puppy as she raises from her seat and plasters a smile on her lips. Her eyes betray the lack of happiness she's trying to cover up.

"Anastasia."

"Why don't I show Mr. Sawyer your rooms so you two can catch up?"

I look over at Andrew and find him staring at the scars on my wrists with an odd expression. I hide my hands behind my back and offer him a polite smile when he raises his eyes to meet mine.

"Thank you."

Luke moves from his place, snapping Andrew out of his thoughts. Both men depart shortly after. It's just me and Carla, who looks as though she's swallowed a lemon. _There goes the hope that she'll be happy to see me._

"I'm sorry about Sunday." I say without waiting another second to pass.

Carla looks surprised.

I go to the couch and sit on it, motioning her to do the same. As soon as she's seated, I waste no time discussing the pink elephant in the room. This speech is now two days overdue.

"I don't mean that everything I said wasn't true because it was. It had been eating away at me for far too many years but I suppose I could have been a bit more... nice about it. The things I've called you... were uncalled for. My anger and hurt were not a good reason to call you the things I did."

My words stun her and she gapes at me, probably not knowing what to reply.

I shift my attention back to my hands and I can see with the corner of my eye that she follows my movements closely.

"Apology accepted." She replies and silence settles over us for a few moments before her voice breaks it. "Do they still hurt?"

I lift my eyes from my hands and offer her a small smile.

"No. They stopped hurting a long time ago."

Silence settles over us again as we look at each other. I hate to admit it but I have most of Carla's features. Her nose, chin, eye color... it's all staring back at me. It's creepy to see just how alike we are and that I could, one day, end up her exact replica. The thought brings chills up my spine.

"Why are you here, Anastasia? You could have told me all this over the phone."

I breathe in deeply and slowly let the air out of my lungs. _It's now or never, Anastasia. You came all this way. Now is the time._ My subconscious whispers, pushing me forward to say the words I've been meaning to say ever since I stepped out of the car and into this house.

"I am here to give this... us... another chance. The last chance."

My words echo in the vast living room, the sound bouncing off the walls and returning with more force. Or maybe it's just me and my nerves.

"A last chance to do what?"

Carla's defensive walls have been raised.

"To have a normal mother-daughter relationship."

She looks lost for words.

"It's not something you have to decide right now. I'm going to be in Savannah for the next three days. I know Luke has asked for a few days to stay here but we could go to a hotel if you feel uncomfortable in my presence."

"No." Carla rushes to say. "You should stay here. Andrew was very anxious to meet you."

_In other words, I should stay here for Andrew. _I think bitterly as I look at her, pondering my decision.

The only reason I'm here is to see Carla. The only reason I had to leave the confines of my house was to talk to my mother. I can almost feel the stinging behind my eyes, those traitorous tears threatening to spill once again. I blink rapidly and plaster a fake smile on my lips.

"Okay."

_I guess some things will never change._

.

I am standing in the master guest room, staring at my reflection for the past ten minutes and examining myself from all possible angles. I've chosen a multicolored, fully embroidered short dress from Elie Saab. It has a flared skirt and long sleeves to cover up anything that needs to be covered and I paired with black silk sandals with no heel. My hair is straightened and slicked back and I have a black headband on to make sure it won't move from that position. My make-up is light, opting only to put on a bit of black eyeliner to make them stand out. A pair of diamond studs completes my look.

The woman staring back at me is beautiful and looks the part of Sir Stephen Clayton's step-daughter. On the inside, however, I'm dreading this dinner that I have to attend with Carla and Andrew. It's not because I don't like Carla's husband. He is a very nice man who always seems to remember that it's never a good policy to annoy me. _Smart man. _However, I'm not here to meet and make him my third step-father. I'm here to see my mother and her attitude has put me off a bit. It's not like I expected her to welcome me with open arms and try to get under my skin but... I expected more than this, to be honest. More than this calculating stare and open frowns. Even Andrew has noticed that something isn't quite right.

"Ana?"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I offer him a small smile.

"You look beyond lovely." He says and I can already feel my blush covering my cheeks. I clear my throat and glance back at him nervously.

"Thank you." I murmur and step away from the mirror.

"Ready to go?" He asks, keeping a close eye on my reactions. I'm positive that if I give anything away that could point to my anxiousness, he'll tell Andrew I don't feel up for the dinner and cancel everything.

"Yes." I say with as much confidence I can muster. Fortunately, it seems that Luke won't press the matter any further and we can descend to the foyer without further discussion. I need to get out of this house and see something else other than four decorated walls. _It's all nice and all but it's not my home. _

"Anastasia, you look beautiful!" Andrew beams at me and turns towards my mother, waiting for her to say something. Seeing that she's the center of attention, she smiles.

"Like a star."

Her words lack the conviction behind them but I smile nonetheless. It's the first time Carla has ever approved of something that I wear. Even though I'm sure she has something to object to, Andrew's presence next to her makes her a kitten and I'm finding that I'm fine with that. I can't do more than what I'm doing right now and I have to come to terms with the fact that my mother has to meet me halfway. I can't do it all on my own.

"Thank you, mother. You also look beautiful." I with a sickly sweet voice and a smile to match it. On the inside, though, I can't wait to get away from this crap and _really _talk to Carla.

"Shall we?"

I snap out of my daze and nod, my eyes trained on my mother as she takes Andrew's arm and plays the role of the perfect wife. I can't help but wonder where do I fit in all this? _Am I supposed to be the estranged yet perfect daughter that Andrew can adopt?_ The thought makes my blood boil and I grip Luke's arm with much more force than necessary.

"What's wrong?" he whispers low so only I can hear him.

"Nothing. Nothing I don't already know." My cryptic response has him wondering so I quickly add, "We'll discuss this later." I add, barely above a whisper, as we make out way to the car Andrew had assigned us.

.

My mother lounges beside me in a ridiculously large floppy sun hat and Jackie O shades, sipping a Coke while I'm under the Georgian sun hoping to add a bit of glow to my skin by the time we leave Savannah. We are on Tybee Island Beach, just three blocks from home and Luke has given me the OK to sit here with my mother, uninterrupted, so that I can finally speak with her.

"How did you enjoy last night?"

Her voice almost has me jumping up from the shock. Thankfully, I reign in that reaction and continue to sip on my Tequila Sunrise.

"It was pleasant." I say after the alcohol had made its way down my throat.

"I suppose it was." Carla concedes.

"He loves you." I say and steal a quick glance in her direction with the corner of my eye even though she can't see me because of my sunglasses. "He would be willing to put the world at your feet."

"I know." She replies, her voice flat.

"And you don't feel the same." I say with an equal flat voice, noting and pointing out the odd situation. Well, as odd as one might find it because my mother surely doesn't find anything odd about it.

"That ship sailed a long time ago, sweetheart."

I turn to face her fully and gape at her.

"Really? Then why bother divorcing in the first place? Why not stick to Ray when he could have given you everything you wanted? Why not stick to Husband Number Three? And let's not forget about Stephen Clayton who could have bought you the world and lay it down at your feet?"

My speech is cut short when I realize that I'm about to launch into a full on debate with her about her choices in life. It's not my business to meddle and I'm not going to start doing that now.

"Go on. You're on a roll." She urges me to even though her voice doesn't betray any amusement.

"I was. I also remembered you don't give a crap about my opinion so why bother in the first place?" I say as I shrug and resume my sun-bathing activity. "It's a waste of time and energy." I add a moment later and see her tense up in my peripheral vision. _Happy that got a reaction out of her. _I think bitterly.

"Then why are you here?"

"To convince myself. I have to try everything within my power. It's a duty I have towards myself in the first place. You are my only living relative. Time will pass and I don't want to wake up one day and think I haven't done everything in my power to get close to you."

My voice is casual and I'm looking at the ocean, staring at the water and itching to get in it and cool off. This conversation is starting to make my blood boil. _Deep breaths, Anastasia._ I hear Will's voice inside my head and follow the instructions. The tension isn't mounting anymore so I take it as a good sign.

"Anastasia..."

I can tell she doesn't want to talk about this so I tell myself that I can give her more time. I still have two days. _Two days._ It feels like a sentence, like I'm delaying the inevitable.

"Why didn't you tell me that you planned on marrying again? Why didn't I get an invitation? Why didn't I get a phone call? Why did you suddenly think of dropping by a few days ago after all this time?"

I'm angry once again. It's an odd thing, my emotions threatening to erupt every few minutes.

"Andrew doesn't know that our relationship is a little... strained. I've told him about the kidnapping and found out that he already knew about it. He saw the information in the media, before Stephen got everyone to delete all that. He was curious about you, the future heir of the Clayton empire. The girl that would be able to bring many people to their knees with a simple flick of her wrist."

"You came to promote your current husband." I say, numb to my core.

My voice is... beyond cold. It's like I'm detached from my body, staring at me and my mother from far away, where nothing can touch me. It's a very odd feeling. An out-of-body experience. It's like I'm not me anymore.

_This is how it feels to lose all hope. _

"Don't be so surprised, Anastasia. And, if I'm being honest, I wanted to see you. I wanted to see the woman you grew into."

_You wanted to see your masterpiece. _I add silently as I sip on my drink and ponder the next few days. Sitting here, with Carla and her husband, being nice and playing the part of the perfect daughter made me sick to my stomach.

"I also wanted to speak to you about Elena." I add, figuring there wasn't much I could lose anyway. The first goal had been blown to pieces. _Time to step up the game._

Her head snaps in my direction.

"She visited me a few days ago and took advantage of the occasion to bring me up to speed on a few things." I say with a flat voice, just like my mood. Carla is watching me like a hawk, drinking in each word that leaves my lips. "I know all about her affair with Christian Grey. Thank you for preparing me for that blow, by the way." I say, a note of sarcasm coating my words. I drink the rest of my tequila and signal the bartender I want another round by waving my empty glass. The bloke almost runs to my seat with a full glass without another word. I bite back a snort.

"Anastasia... I didn't..."

"Cut the crap!" I say, cutting off her excuses before she has a chance to utter them. "Don't insult my intelligence. You knew! That's the reason why Grey was white as a sheet when I came back and that's why you told him to keep his hands off of me. What I don't understand is why you would give a crap if I became his submissive or not. It's more than glaringly obvious to me that you couldn't give a crap less about me. Unless you want to extort something from Stephen, of course." I'm calm and collected as though we're discussing the weather while Carla is looking at me as though I'm a ticking bomb.

"She told you, huh?" She asks me a minute later, probably after she recovers from the initial shock. I nod.

"Oh, yeah! She's especially proud of the fact that he was fifteen at the time." I say with a fake smile and Carla's face falls.

"What?!" She shouts, gathering the attention of a few people around us.

I wait until everyone looks away and then resume my drinking before saying anything. I need this alcohol to take the edge off my anger and the bitter taste from my mouth as I discuss this subject.

"Don't tell me you didn't know. You are, after all, very close friends. So close that when she advised you to send me away to boarding school, you were all for it. You sent me away because the witch told you to. Thank God you stuck to older guys and haven't fucked a minor like she did!" I say with a mock shiver as my mother continues to stare at me as though I've told her that I'm an alien.

"He was fifteen?!" She asks even though I just said that a minute ago.

"Isn't that what I just said?" I ask and turn to look at her. She's pale as a sheet of paper. _Crap! Looks like someone didn't know their best friend as well as they thought... _"And to think you were all over me, telling me how much of a bad influence Samantha Prescott was. Guess we all know better know." I murmur the last part and take another sip of my drink. At this rate, I'm going to get drunk.

"Anastasia, you have to believe me. I had no idea! I found out about him a year ago when Elena was bragging about choosing his subs. The boy went through 12 at the time. The thought that you could add to that number was frightening."

Twelve submissives? Fuck my life! I can't help but wonder how many have graced his bed so far. _It's not like you should care, Anastasia. You've told him about your conversation with Elena. You've sent him the footage through Natalie. You've done your part. Let it go! _My subconscious screams at me but all I can think of is all those girls, thinking they stood a chance when they never had one to begin with.

"Why?" I find myself whispering in spite of my earlier plan to just let it all go to hell. "Why was it frightening?"

Carla releases a breath of air and regroups in record time. The war away look on her face and the distant body language tells me she's far away inside her head, looking for words that could miraculously solve the issues I've been going through because of her. Or maybe she's just trying to find the words to justify herself and make sure everything doesn't go to hell. Either way, she's far gone inside her head. All I can do is wait until she comes back and starts speaking.

"Anastasia, I may lack maternal instincts but that doesn't mean I want what's worse for you. You would have fallen for him, just like those before you. And he would have dumped you without a second thought, as he did to the others. You've always been such a sensitive girl. It would have ended badly."

_That's why you've always doted on me, isn't that right?_

My question must have been obvious on my face because Carla rushes to add "I know I haven't been there when you needed me but, trust me, with my track record, my presence in your life wouldn't have done you any good. The best thing I could do was to stay away while you were growing up."

I'm stunned.

"I've been a bad mother.I know. But it would have been worse if I stayed and raised you."

Her voice and the look in her eyes tell me she actually believes what she's saying. _She actually thinks that staying away from me was for the best!_ I think as I resume my drinking. So much for giving this another chance as I pull out my phone and text Luke to get me the fuck out of here before I do or say something I might regret! I've had too much to drink at this sun isn't doing me any favors.

"I'm tired. Luke is coming to collect us." I whisper and stare out at the ocean, wanting nothing more than to jump in it and drown.

* * *

**Poor Ana! To try and always fail...**

**The next chapter should be this week so make sure you're around to read it.**

**Thank you all for the faves, follows and reviews!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, everyone!**

**Chapter 14 is here!**

**Fro the lowest pit in Hell, to the highest sky in Heaven!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ch. 14

My philosophy professor from boarding school said, at some point, that every human is born happy and that, given the chance to explore inside our minds, we shall find that happiness was always there, always a part of us, even during our times of intense grief. All we had to do was open that door and acknowledge it.

I remember thinking what a load of crap that was.

I remember thinking happiness was nothing more than a state one rarely achieved, given the fact that all kinds of issues arose each day, day after day. Happiness was always a foreign concept to me. Sure, I didn't lose track of the fact that I was very privileged to be where I was, to do the things I did and never fear the next day and what it could bring. In spite of being so aware of everything around me, there was chaos inside me. It was impossible to imagine that there was some happiness around there, in the middle of my being, just waiting to burst.

The moment my eyes meet his, I can almost swear my heart skips a beat. It's like all air is sucked from the room, leaving my lungs empty and my eyes locked with his.

Blue and gray.

For a brief moment, I feel the happiness. Like a shot of tequila, it warms my chest and spreads to my limbs, igniting me from inside until I can almost feel the champagne flute melt in my hand. But, in the blink of an eye, the warmth disappears.

Cold blue eyes meet weary gray ones.

"Anastasia, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Andrew's voice makes me break eye contact and I turn my eyes left to meet his. I smile.

"Of course. Lead the way."

There's a smile in my voice but it's accompanied by a pit in the bottom of my stomach. _He's here._ Why is he here of all places?

"I want you to meet my partner, Patrick Morton. Patrick, Anastasia is Carla's daughter."

Patrick wastes no time in examining me from head to toe. I'm wearing another Elie Saab creation, much more sophisticated given the fact that this is no casual family dinner like the one we had last night. Tonight is an entire story so I've decided to wear something I've bought in the spur of the moment, a little under five hours ago, when I first found out about this dinner. It's a pretty dress, if I'm being honest. Powder blue, just like my eyes. It's long, flowing and with a deep V-neck, meant to draw people's attention to my décollteage and away from the marks on my arms and wrists which are visible because the dress is short sleeved. The top is fully embroidered with sequins and pearls while the skirt is long and made of feathers. A narrow leather belt marks the transition from the top of the dress to the skirt. What I really like about this dress are the hidden, deep pockets that can hide my wrists if anyone stares at them too long. _Thank God for small favors!_

It's a present from Andrew. It costs a small fortune. _A small price to pay to get in the good graces of Sir Stephen Clayton's heiress. _My subconscious quips.

I push her voice away and try to focus on not stepping on my dress. A much more difficult task than I initially thought.

The last thing I want is to attend this sort of event which will only delay my conversation with Carla but here I am, playing the part I've always played at these events. But something's different now. I'm no longer someone merely related to Stephen. I'm the girl who, one day, will have all his money and power at my disposal and that's something that everyone in this hall knows. I can tell by the way they hold themselves when they speak to me, their nervous smiles and sometimes, awkward conversation. No one wants to fuck up in my face, afraid that I'll turn around and tell Stephen. _Good boy and girls._

The thought makes me bite back a smirk. I school my features as we reach the next important person who undoubtedly, will end up wanting to get in my good graces.

To be honest, I don't know how to feel about all this. It's interesting to be my own person in front of them and not Carla's daughter and Andrew's step-daughter. It's a nice feeling to know that I have my own status among these people and that said status has been given to me because Stephen trusts me to carry on his name with the respect it deserves.

It makes me feel appreciated.

But let's go back to Patrick, who has yet to utter a word. He's drinking me in, there's no other way of putting it.

"Sir Stephen Clayton's step-daughter." Patrick says, amusement dancing in his eyes as he takes my right hand and bows to kiss it. _There's something about you, Patrick..._

"His heiress, not step-daughter." I say with a polite smile on my lips even though I'd give anything to get away from the man standing in front of me.

Upon hearing my comment, Patrick freezes for a second before he straightens back and offers me a polite smile in return. He caught the underlying meaning of my words. I am more than a pretty face and a spoiled brat. _Yes, Patrick. His heiress._

"Oh... I've missed that statement." He replies coldly, amusement gone from his eyes.

"It's floating around... nothing official yet." I add a beat later.

Andrew, who up until now has watched our exchange, decides he should make his presence known.

"Everyone here knows it. I'm surprised you didn't know it yet, Patrick."

"I'm sure Miss Anastasia can forgive me." Patrick says with a charming smile meant to assure me he meant no harm. _Maybe Andrew's marriage with Carla has scorned Mr. Morton. _I add silently and take a sip of my champagne before confirming his words.

"Of course." I murmur and smile once again.

"So, what brings you so far away from home all the way to Georgia?"

"My mother." I say and tilt my flute in Carla's direction. She's off chatting with other socialites dressed to their nines, laughing like she's never heard a better joke and drinking like there's no tomorrow. I wonder is she saw Christian yet. Now _that _is what I would call interesting.

"A beautiful woman. Like mother, like daughter."

"Thank you." I whisper and take another sip from my flute and notice I've almost drank it all. I grab another flute just as a waited passes by and abandon the previous one.

"Excuse me, please." Andrew mutters and disappears from my side, leaving me alone with Patrick.

"How are you enjoying Savannah so far?" Patrick asks.

"It's very nice... though I suppose the weather could have been better. All this heat..."

"Is suffocating." Patrick finishes my sentence for me and smiles. "I agree. I could do without all this humidity."

"My thoughts exactly."

Silence hangs between us and Patrick's eyes find my wrists and remain glued to them. I put my flute down and push my hands in the dress pockets, hiding the scars. His knowing gaze finds it's way back to my eyes.

"I heard the investigation has been closed. They never did find your kidnapper, did they?"

"No, they didn't." _His ashes are three feet under ground._ I add silently and keep a poker face.

Patrick tilts his head and regards me shrewdly.

"How does that make you feel?"

_It makes me feel as though I should kick you in the face for mentioning it. _I reply silently as I take a big sip of my champagne.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for me, Christian Trevelyan-Grey comes in to save the night. O_h, shut it! You wanted him to come closer, don't deny it!_

"Mr. Morton, what a surprise to see you here!"

Even I can tell he's as ironic as possible.

Patrick Morton straightens instantly and looks over my shoulder, glaring daggers at Christian. _If looks could kill..._

"I don't see why you'd be so surprised, Grey. I'm Andrew's partner, after all. Your presence here is the real surprise." Andrew says with an arctic voice, animosity dripping from every word.

I take it as my queue to put as much distance as possible between me and Grey but as soon as that thought crosses my mind, Christian Trevelyan-Grey comes into my line of vision and holds me glued to the floor with his stare.

"Miss Steele." He says, completely ignoring Patrick and his remark as though I'm the most important person in this hall. "A pleasure seeing you again." He takes my hand and kisses each knuckle, his lips lingering on my skin and burning a trail.

"Mr. Grey." I murmur and withdraw my hand without further words.

There's a flicker in his eyes but he hides it too quickly for me to understand what it is.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen." I murmur and do my best to walk as fast as possible without tripping on my dress.

I make it to the ladies' room without any incident and wash my hands with ice cold water. The feeling is exactly what I need right now. _Actually, what you _need _is to stop running from Christian Grey and face the music. _My subconscious snaps at me, tapping her foot and glaring at me in the mirror. _Curious why I imagine her to look exactly like my mother._

Just as I come back from my internal dialogue, two women step in, so caught up in their very heated discussion that they don't even acknowledge me.

"Did you see how Christian Grey kept looking at her? They're together, trust me." The blonde one said.

_Christian?_

"What I wouldn't give to have a man looking at me like that." The brunette sighed.

"I think anyone dressed in that gorgeous gown would attract all the attention. Being Anastasia Steele certainly helps, sure, but..."

The blonde's dark green eyes catch mine and the rest of her words never make it out of her mouth as she pales before my eyes. Not understanding why her friend suddenly turned mute, the brunette looks in my direction and freezes.

It's in moments like these that I really don't want to be the subject of conversation. What should I say? Thank you? Fuck you?

_Either could work at this point. _My subconscious agrees and shrugs. _Just say something._

The brunette beats me to the punch, though.

"Hello."

I stare at her. _Hello? _Is that the best she can offer when being caught gossiping?

"We didn't mean to... um... we really like your dress."

The blonde has yet so say a word.

"Thank you." I murmur and stare at the blonde just to make her even more uncomfortable. It's not like it's the first time I've caught people talking about me behind my back. When you're famous, people either want to be you or tear you down and take your place. And while the brunette definitely wanted to be me, the blonde seemed to belong to the other category. Making her feel bad for a few minutes would only serve her right.

"Excuse me. Could you please leave the room for a few minutes?"

We all turn our attention to the male voice and I lock eyes with Taylor. _What are you doing here? _I ask him with a look but he remains stoic and glares at the two girls who came in earlier. They didn't need to be told twice and scurry off, probably thanking their lucky stars that they no longer have to be in the same room as me. When I also make a move to get out, Christian steps in and Taylor exits quickly and without a word.

Crap!

_The thought of not seeing him again was painful to you, Anastasia. _My subconscious points out and I have to bite my tongue not to scream at myself. Of course the thought of not seeing him ever again was painful! I let this man under my skin, even deeper than I let Nick, and that's saying something! But I have to ask myself: why was I so attracted to him? What did he possess that drew me in so much? Was it his charm or his demons? _Do you care either way?_

No. I don't care. He's here, in this room, and it's taking everything within me not to slap him and them jump into his arms and feel his warmth. God, how much can I crave his touch and scent? _What's wrong with me?_

I close my eyes and take a step back. I need to control myself.

There's a rustle of fabric and when I open my eyes, I see Christian Trevelyan-Grey in front of me, on his knees. I am as still as a statue, looking down at him and not knowing what to say, what to do. Seeing him on his knees in front of me id breaking my heart all over again!

"Forgive me, Anastasia. Please, forgive me!"

The sound of his voice sends shivers down my spine as a tear runs down my cheek. His eyes soften even more and he takes my left hand, squeezing it tightly between both of his. As soon as I see his watery eyes, I also fall on my knees.

We're eye level. My watery eyes meet his. Blue to gray. Pain reaching out to pain. _And the dam explodes._

I start crying, letting it all out: my pain, my sorrow for his pain, all those bottled emotions that have been pushed away for too long. I cry in earnest for him and everything he had to go through, for all the pain he knew from such a young age, for his inability to get out, for falling into Elena's clutches, for seeking love from someone who would never give it to him, for hiding from his parents and everyone around him, for being her dirty secret, for never knowing love...

My heart brakes with each thought about everything he's missed and everything he went through. But, most of all, I cry because he's still in that hell. He's still there, thinking he has no heart and deserves no love. He's still isolated in his ivory tower, cutting off all attempts to get to him.

"Don't cry, Anastasia. Please, don't cry."

His whispered words only make me cry harder as I crumple his shirt in my fists.

We cling to each other for what feels like ages until there's no tear left to shed. Christian lifts me slowly and sits both of us on the plush green love seat in the corner of the room. I open my eyes just as he presses a soft handkerchief to my face, wiping away the tear tracks. _Thank God for waterproof mascara!_

He also has tear track on his cheeks, his shirt is a mess, thanks to me, and his eyes are bloodshot. _God, aren't we the pair? _I think sarcastically as I look down to my hands.

At the precise moment I look up and open my mouth to speak, there's a commotion outside and Carla steps in, moments later, fire blazing in her eyes and ready to commit murder, followed closely by Taylor who immediately closes the door. Shock registers on Carla's features when she sees us, both with bloodshot eyes and looking like a mess.

Christian freezes.

A moments passes as all of us hold our breaths, waiting for Carla to erupt like a volcano.

The scene reminds me of the scene in Seattle, with Carla red as a tomato and Christian pale as a sheet of paper. _Oh yes, we remember that day._ My demons whisper and test their restrains. I grit my teeth.

"I'm sorry. Anastasia, are you alright?" Carla asks, her eyes doing a quick sweep over my face and figure and move on to Christian in record time.

"Yes." I croak and clear my throat to try again. "Yes. I'm fine." I say again and stare at my mother, waiting for her to attack.

It never comes, though. Carla's eyes soften a fraction and she turns around to Taylor.

"Go and make sure no one comes in."

Christian briefly nods and Taylor retreats from the room without a word.

Silence settles over us.

"This has got to be the last thing I was expecting, to be honest." Carla says, her voice holding a bit of amusement. "Seems like Elena couldn't break you all the way."

Upon hearing her name Christian draws in a sharp breath. I glare at Carla.

"That was actually a compliment." She replies with a shrug and comes closer. I can sense Christian's body become more rigid with each step she takes in our direction. It's like he's afraid she's going to hit him. Then again, there's no one here to keep her away from him. No one except for me.

"We shall be out in a minute." I reply with a detached voice that makes my mother stop in her tracks.

"You had almost twenty minutes. And that's since he came here." Carla replies casually and stares at us a bit longer.

_Has it been that long?_

"Christian, I'm sure you can understand why I wouldn't want to cause a scene at the dinner my husband organized. You being in a restroom with my daughter is not the kind of publicity anyone would like for their event."

Trust Carla to keep a level head when everyone around her fails to do so. Not long ago, I was in her position, making sure she didn't mess up the perfect family picture.

"Of course. I apologize." Christian replies, his voice scratchy.

"Apology accepted. You are invited to join us for lunch tomorrow. That should give you children more than enough time to talk and set things straight."

_My mother is in charge and is not going to take no for an answer._ I have to say, it's the first time I've even seen her in this position and it's quite the scene. I didn't know she had it in her to be the grown-up in the picture.

"Thank you." Christian replies and makes a brief eye contact with me before raising from his seat and leaving the room.

I am _beyond_ stunned.

"Fix up your face. The last thing we need is for anyone to notice you've been crying." Carla mutters.

It takes me a minute to snap out of my stupor.

.

The golf club is filled to the brim. We're sitting on the terrace. It's the perfect place to enjoy the beautiful weather while still being away from the burning sun. It's also the perfect place for people to greet Andrew and introduce themselves to me.

Christian is late and I'm really close to my limit of ass kissing for the day. I haven't sat in front of the mirror for two hours just to see the same faces from last night. I've sat in front of the mirror for two hours because _he _would be here. And he's not.

_Maybe he took his jet and ran home._ My subconscious offers and I openly scowl.

Carla looks at me and I school my features into a poker face. The last thing I need is for her to start lecturing me. There's nothing worse than getting lectured from someone who never cared before to give proper advice at the needed time.

"Are you ready to order?"

_This has got to be the third time our waiter asks us_. Involuntarily, I glare at the man.

"No." I hiss and he gapes at me. "We shall summon you when needed."

The man almost runs from the table as Andrew also gapes at me and Carla frowns.

"Anastasia, don't be rude." Carla whispers.

I throw her a look so murderous she quickly looks away like a scared cat.

"I apologize for being late." I hear _him _speak from behind me. Fighting every muscle in my body that wants to turn around and drink him in, I keep still. Christian comes in my line of vision when he bows down to kiss Carla's hand and later shakes Andrew's hand.

"Mr. Grey, I present you my step-daughter, Anastasia Rose Steele." Andrew says with a smile so large you'd think his face was about to split. _In your dreams_. I add silently as I raise from my chair.

"I've already had the pleasure of meeting her, sir." Christian replies with his smooth voice. "Hello, Anastasia." He whispers and openly stares at me. With the corner of my eye, I can see Carla and Andrew share a look. I wonder what that's about.

"Hello, Christian." I reply softly and kiss both his cheeks before I resume my seat and signal the waiter. The poor man rushes to our table in no time, pen poised to take our order.

"Such promptitude..." I mutter dryly as I peruse the menu.

My words make him smile and by the time he sits next to me, there's a twinkle in his eyes.

"Should I be thanking you for the quick service?" Grey whispers and his breath washes over my neck, making my hair stand up. I bite my lip to suppress the smile threatening to escape.

"We should be thanking your tardiness for her cranky mood." Carla comments. My eyes snap to hers. "What? Have I said anything wrong?" She challenges me in spite of my glare.

"I figured you'd have something to say about crankiness. You are after all, the queen of the mood, right?" My question sounds more brittle than I meant it and Andrew throws me a confused look. Christian squeezes my hand under the table.

"How about we order since we're all here now?" Andrew says, ever pleasant and willing to put aside all differences. _How about not? _

"What was that, Anastasia?" He asks, brows furrowed. Christian squeezes my hand even tighter, almost blocking the blood flow.

_Crap! Did I say that out loud?_

I throw him a sickly sweet smile and quickly glance at the menu.

"I'll have the salmon on herbs."

.

Lunch was a boring affair. Andrew kept asking Christian about his company and his future plans then moved on to me and asked me about my future plans now that I was in the US. I resisted temptation to say that I had been in the US for over a year now. That would have made Carla look like the neglectful mother she was. Instead, I told him I want to go into publishing. That certainly got Christian's attention.

"So... publishing, huh?" Christian asks, his voice snapping me out of my memories.

We are walking around the golf courses. I've long ditched my pumps to avoid spraining my ankles or worse – break something. The feel of the soft grass between my toes is magnificent. Even the sun has decided not to burn us to a crisp while we walk.

"That's not why you're here, Christian."

His carefree attitude disappears before my eyes.

"Yeah..." His eyes are downcast, like a child scolded by his mother. "I got your e-mail. And your package." He mutters but I still catch that. I release a breath but tense up back again as I wait for him to speak once again. "I'm sorry you had to find out like that." He says and looks into my eyes. I'm captivated.

"You're not sorry I found out." I say and a sad smile makes its way on his lips.

"No, Anastasia. I'm not."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I ask softly as I gaze into his eyes.

"I didn't know how. It was hard to make the decision once it was clear you would never be my submissive. If you could have been..." He trails off, a far away look in his eyes. _The could-have-been that always hangs in the air..._

"You would have presented me with a NDA." I whisper, my breath leaving my body in a rush.

"Yes. From there on, it would have been simple." Christian says and I can feel the tension in his muscles, especially in the forearm I'm gripping as we continue to stroll through the grass. "Seeing you in the café changed all of that. I realized I could never ask you to... submit to me. The idea of seeing you tied up... almost made me gag. Then you came and threw those photos on my desk. I knew, in that moment, that everything I would ever do was to protect you. To make sure something like that never happened to you ever again. Whatever the price." He stops and stares at me with such fire in his eyes I'm left speechless. "You have to believe me, Anastasia. I would never do that to you. I wouldn't do it even if I wouldn't have witnessed your panic attacks."

"I believe you." I murmur and he seems placated by my answer. "So you didn't pursue me to be your sub." I whisper mostly to myself but he catches it anyway. His muscles tense under my touch once again.

"No. I have to admit, it made me go round in circles for a while. You kept appearing in the most unusual places and I had to remind myself that it was better if I stayed away from you. I am not the man for you, Anastasia."

"Then why are you here?" I ask him softly and stare at his lips. I can't keep away the memories of us kissing from my mind. I close my eyes and try my best to wheel the memories away.

"Because I can't stay away from you, Anastasia. I've tried and I've failed. Miserably." He whispers and closes the gap to my lips. I melt in his arms, instantly. His arms circle my waist and I grip his forearms, trying to get him even closer. My hands find their way in his unruly hair as his tongue traces my lower lip. When he sucks on it, I almost whimper with need. _God, what is this man doing to me?_ He devours my mouth and I do the same but we stop, too soon for my liking.

"Miss Steele, we have to stop."

I slowly come back to my senses and look around. Fortunately, no one is around. I bite my lip and look at Christian. There's a hunger in his eyes that makes the muscles in my lower abdomen clench in response. I release him and take a step backwards. This man's mere presence is clouding my judgment. Moments of weakness, such as this one, could fuel the media for days on end. _I cannot allow something like that._

"Anastasia?" Christian's voice reaches me and pulls me out from my thoughts.

"We shouldn't be doing this." I whisper and take another step back.

"Hey, it's OK. No one saw us." He says, his voice meant to be reassuring but it has the opposite effect.

"It's not about that." I say and straighten my spine, holding my head high. "I will not cross that line, no matter how much I'd like to." I say with a detached voice.

"What? What do you mean? What line?" Christian asks, looking confused and a little scared.

"I like you, Christian. I like you a lot." I say with a sad smile as my resolve strengthens inside my mind. "But if you can't respond to my feelings, this isn't going to end well."

"I can try. I'm attracted to you, Anastasia. Don't doubt that." He tries, his voice pleading.

I close my eyes and shake my head. To dispel his words or to shake some sense into myself, it doesn't really matter at this point.

_Do it, Anastasia. Ask him! _My subconscious urges me on, pushing me to demand an answer to the question I've been dreading since yesterday morning.

"How many were there?"

It's more than obvious that my question confuses him so I ask him again.

"How many subs have you had?"

He freezes.

"Anastasia, that –"

I cut him off. "No. The only answer I'm willing to listen to is the one to my question. How. Many?"

Maybe there's something in my eyes that makes him take my question seriously, maybe he's finally deciding to own up to his past and start being honest with me. I don't know what it is but the look in his eyes, as well as his posture, changes.

"Fifteen."

_Bloody hell!_

"I see." I murmur, shocked by his answer. "When did the last... relationship end?" I say in spite of the growing lump in my throat and the prickling behind my eyelids. _Stay strong, Anastasia!_

"Almost three months ago."

"Why did it end?" I ask, my voice hollow and emotionless.

"She wanted more."

_And you couldn't give her more. _My subconscious adds with an equally hollow voice.

"Was this the usual reason?"

"Yes."

It's taking everything within me not to turn around and start running from him. It's taking everything within me not to start crying, now that I know just what type of relationship he is accustomed to.

"I never wanted to try before, Anastasia. I'm willing to try now. With you."

Minutes tick by before I'm able to find my voice and gain control over my reactions and emotions.

"Why? What makes me so different?" I question and tilt my head, examining his reactions.

"I don't know. It just does." He replies, looking frustrated and ready to tear his hair out.

_Wrong answer. _My subconscious replies.

"Christian... I can't do this." I whisper and release a deep breath. "I can't do this if you're not sure. I can't... just sit and wait for you to figure it out and pray to all heavens that in the end you'll want me. I've barely met you and everything that has happened should make me want to run away and never look back. But I'm weak so I stayed. That doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to believe that I have some sort of special ability to get you out of your darkness. That's something you have to do by yourself."

"That's not it. That's not my intention."

"Really? Isn't that why you had so many women in your bed to begin with? To make it all go away and regain control over your life? Because that's the only way I can see it. That's the only thing that could make sense to me. You've had fifteen chances to open your eyes and many other chances to tell me the truth. You've ignored all of them." I whisper, my voice breaking.

"Anastasia -" He pleads and takes a step in my direction. I take another step back and shake my head.

"I like you, Christian. A lot. I'm attracted to you. I'm not going to deny it or lie about it. But I'm not going to be your crutch because that would mean our end before we would even begin. If you really want this, you have to meet me half way."

He stares at me, breathing heavily as though I've hit him in the gut. A few minutes pass as we continue stare at each other, neither of us moving.

"You doubt me." He whispers, pained and broken. Just hearing him rips a hole in my chest.

"With your track record, it would be stupid not to." I say, my voice equally pained.

"But you'll give me a chance to prove that I can -"

"I'll give you _time to heal_." I say, cutting him off. "There's nothing to prove, Christian. I want what's best for you and, right now, I'm not what's best for you. I would only be a distraction."

"How do you know that? How can you know what's going on inside me?" He asks, his tone demanding and angry.

"Because I've been there!" I scream and grip my hair. "I've been where you are. I've tried everything to make it go away. I did drugs. I drank. Not enough to get drunk each time but enough to numb the feelings inside. I got myself wrapped up in the idea that love can save me but only ended up hurting the other person. I've hurt myself."

I whisper the last part but he hears it nonetheless. His sharp intake of air is proof of that.

"So, you see, we're not that different, you and I. We both had our distractions. But they will never lead to anything good. I can vouch for that."

Throughout my speech, memories of my life passed before my eyes, reminding me of each failure and mistake, each one stabbing me and reminding me of my mess. I may have conquered many of my demons but there are many left. _So many_.

"So what? You're giving up on me before we even started?" Christian asks, his voice weak.

"I'm not going to disappear, Christian. I'm going to be one call away. Always. But this is _your _path."

He nods and offers me a sad smile as I walk back to him. I wrap my hands around him and breathe in his scent, my nerves calming down slightly. His body reacts the same way to our contact.

"You can do this, Christian." I whisper into his chest and close my eyes.

_May God help us!_

* * *

**Soooo... what did you think?  
**

**I'd like to thank Manal for reading this really quick. I'd like to thank all of you for your opinions and for reading this!**

**Have a great weekend!**

**~V**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi, guys!**

**Sorry for the absence! I've been going through some things (good things!) but those things have hardly left me any spare time for writing.**

**This chapter is on the shorter side but there's a lot going on. Keep in mind that I've skipped a few days since the last chapter. The reason for doing so is because I'm going to be writing from CPOV everything that I'm not writing here. I need this time lapse or else things are going to get repetitive.**

**Let me know what you think of this.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ch. 15

I am on the floor, holding Christian in my arms as if I'm holding a child. He's exhausted now, the turmoil has ended. _For now._ I found him destroying the room as if he had the force of a tornado: objects were flying out of drawers and off the walls, the mattress on the bed was no longer on the bed and the couch was flipped over.

Needless to say, it's a mess in here. I have a feeling it's not the end... it's just the beginning. And it only reflects a small piece of what's inside him at this moment. He has just begun scratching the surface.

Christian has stared his sessions with John in earnest now and I'm convinced he's scared out of his wits by the journey that lies ahead of him. I sometimes doubt he'll be able to make it to the finish line but that doubt remains my own. I've never shared it with him. In his eyes, I'm the example that he _can _get better, that he _will _get better. I am the light at the end of the tunnel he's in. And I do not dare to tell him that the tunnel is long. _Very long._

"Will this pain ever go away?"

Christian's voice brings me out of my head and it takes me a few blinks before I'm able to focus my attention on him. I look at him. He has his head in my lap and we're both on the hardwood floor. My muscles ache and protest and my joints are stiff but I'm not ready to get up yet. I'm not ready.

"Yes... eventually." I reply and comb my fingers through his silky tresses. He closes his eyes for a few moments, giving me the chance to escape his inquiring eyes. I'm carefully threading the line between lie and truth and it's no easy task. Giving him hope would only make it worse if that hope does not become a reality.

I have to be careful. I have to be honest and also add a bit of optimism. He needs my reassurance. He needs to be reminded that the beginning is always the hardest part. Once he'll get the taste of victory over his demons, he'll fight even without noticing he's doing it in the first place. Then I'll stop being the light at the end of his tunnel.

_What then? What will happen once he no longer needs you? What if he pushes you away like he did to the others before you?_

The voice inside my head is getting stronger with each day that passes, my own insecurities eating away at me. I'm full of doubts. It's hard to smile and promise him all the best when all I can think of is that he'll leave me without a spare glance once he's able to be... better.

"Was it hard for you?"

"Yes." I say and think back to my first days in the rehab facility where I admitted myself as soon as I got out of the hospital. "I craved the drugs." My mouth dries just thinking about those moments of fighting myself just to stay sane. "My own body and part of my mind were fighting against my reason. I was at war with myself." I whisper and his hand clutches mine tightly, grounding me in this moment and keeping me away from that painful period.

"How is that even possible? You didn't openly chose to use."

Christian's voice is like silk, wrapping itself around me, sheltering me into this cocoon, far away from the outside world, far away from the pain. I take a moment to think back to that time once again and try my best not to let the shadows get a firm grip on me.

"It doesn't matter. Heroin is one of the most addictive substances, if not the most addictive. It enters into your bloodstream instantly and conquers each and every cell in its path. My body was hooked. My mind was craving it. The very little presence of spirit I had was raging against me."

"Why?"

I look at him.

"We shall talk about this some other time, alright?"

Christian grinds his teeth but nods, nonetheless. These past few days, there have been a few close calls when Christian had me talking about my time with Paul. I am weary and always choose my words carefully, though I believe he has an inkling as to what really happened to me.

I resume my ministrations and he calms under my touch once again.

"Tell me about today. Why did you do this?" I murmur and look around. _This was his playroom. _All kinds of object are littering the floor around us and even some parts of plaster from the walls. Shivers crawl up my spines. It's hard not to start picturing how this room looked _before. _To picture Christian here... with them.

_Dreams were born and shattered here. _

"I got mad, I guess." He murmurs his voice small and timid, so unlike the Christian I've come to know. The Christian I knew was willing to go to the ends of the world if that meant he got what he wanted in the end. _This _Christian, however... is a very different one.

I'm having trouble adjusting to him, to be honest.

"Why did you get mad?" I ask, pushing him to talk even though I know it's probably the last thing he wants to do at this point. The problem is that what he _wants _and what he _needs _are two very different things.

"I talked to John today. About Elena."

Just hearing her name makes me tense and angry. I nod, aware that he can't see me from his position, and let it go. I don't trust myself to talk about Elena Lincoln when I could kill the witch with my bare hands. _Adding to the hatred would do him no good._

"I've missed you." He whispers and I smile, in spite of my earlier thoughts.

"I've missed you, too." I reply and look into his eyes.

We spend a few minutes like this, staring at each other. Words aren't needed in moments like this, when I feel like our souls are reaching out to one another. It's such an intense feeling that it shuts up the voice inside my head. In moments like this, everything else fades. All I can feel and see is him and the beat of my heart.

_I'm falling for Christian Grey._

"I can't sleep." He murmurs and stares at my lips.

"Why?"

"Nightmares."

"_You can't anticipate your dreams. Can't block them, can't repress." _I whisper as I look into his eyes and picture myself on William's couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling numb and tired. Christian's hands tighten around my waist as the words leave my mouth.

"Who said that?"

"William." I reply and clear my throat. Just thinking about those moments brings chills up my spine. It's not easy to forget the nightmares, even though you know they're not true. It's even harder to try and cope with buried memories that surface when you're asleep, when you're weak. Memories that make you want to cry and throw up and just run until your body gives up and you release your final breath.

"He's right. I've been repressing everything during the day and it's only made it worse. It's like my mind is waiting for the right moment to start clawing at me, to drag me into the abyss. I can't escape."

Listening to Christian's story brings me back to my very own dark place inside my mind, where all my demons await. _You haven't forgotten us, have you, Anastasia? _They hiss and smile wickedly, vicious teeth shoving and shining in the light. I blink fast, trying to get the images out of my mind. _They're not real. _There are no monsters inside my head. It's just my imagination. My fears are just a chemical imbalance. That's all. _They're not real. They're not real._ I keep repeating in my head, doing my best to keep them away.

_They're as real as I am. Forever a part of you, Anastasia. _My subconscious whispers. _Remember Paul? Wasn't he real? He felt real._

"Anastasia? Hey, what's wrong?"

I come out of my head and find myself staring into his eyes.

Christian's head is no longer in my lap and my hands are no longer caressing his tresses. He's staring at me, concern written all over his face and a strange emotion in his eyes. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see the terror? Does he see the fear? _Does he see the future him?_

"I'm fine." I hear myself replying, sounding miles away. My voice doesn't sound like my own. It's like I'm on autopilot while the inside me is too numb to think or react. But there's nothing I can do. I've retreated too far inside my head to escape them.

"You're covered in sweat." Christian says as he takes me into his arms. I melt into his embrace and breathe in his scent. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes." I murmur into his chest and do my best to sound convincing.

_Liar!_

* * *

Earlier that day

* * *

"You drove all the way here to Portland so I can only imagine it's quite important."

To be honest, I have no idea why I drove all this way here. I just knew that I couldn't sit inside the house, reading one page off a book only to put it back and pick up another one and repeat the cycle all over again.

I'm a failure. Or at least that's how I feel. That's what my subconscious is screaming at me. That's what my demons are whispering. It's hard to fight yourself at every step. It's hard not to cave in and believe it.

I just wanted to get away. It just wanted to get away from it all, to feel the wind in my hair and focus only on driving away from it all. The problem is that everything is inside me, not outside. I can only escape if I fill my time with anything and just push thoughts away.

"What made you drive all this way, Anastasia?"

"I needed to get out. The walls were closing in on me." I whisper and shiver just thinking about that feeling of... suffocation.

"What made you feel like you needed to escape?"

"The thoughts."

"Would you like to share them with me?"

_They are too many of them_, I reply silently as I stare outside. Too many thoughts and indecision and fear and insecurities. There's too much inside my head. I pick the most recent failure and start talking, in spite of the lump in my throat.

"I failed. I failed to see that my mother would never become the woman I need her to become. I failed to look beyond Christian's darkness and see the magnitude of his burden."

Will is quiet for a moment but it's a pleasant silence. He's not analyzing me but the words I've spoken. It's easier to deal with that.

"I see. Would it make you feel better if I told you that the things you mention were beyond your ability to see?"

"I don't know." I whisper and look out the window once more. It's pouring outside. It's a wonder I made it here in one piece considering my fast driving.

_One wrong turn and we could end this, Anastasia..._

"Ana, the only person you can really know, the only person you can really _see _is the one staring back at you in the mirror. Let's focus on her. Tell me about her."

I can feel my throat closing at the thought of talking about myself but I summon as much courage as I can and force myself to speak.

"I feel... tired." I whisper.

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yes. Even more than I should."

William frowns and analyzes me for a moment.

"Loss of appetite?"

_And we're going through the clinical symptoms of depression. _

"No." _I eat. Luke makes sure I eat and exercise. _"I am exercising."

"Could it be that you are over-exercising?"

"No."

William leans back in his seat and looks at me. Minutes tick by as we stare at each other. The silence is hard to take. That kind of silence that will only be broken by someone who has to confess a crime. But the difference is that I have nothing to confess. I don't think I even have the presence of spirit to talk.

_Why are you here, Anastasia?_

I have no bloody idea.

"How else do you feel?"

I get rid of my shoes and lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It's an old habit that always kicks in when I need to escape William's scrutinizing eyes.

"I feel lost." I whisper, testing the words on my tongue.

"In what way?"

"I feel like I'm floating without a purpose."

"A purpose requires energy." William points out. I know he's right. "Before you start a new project, you need to draw your conclusions from the previous one. Let's talk about that."

"My trip?" I ask, a little uncertain where he wants to take this.

"Yes. It's the catalyst for this state you are in. Tell me about your trip."

_Oh, yes... the wonderfully disastrous trip that has landed me in this state._ I add silently as I think back to last week.

I've been back for four days and I still can't shake the feeling from my bones. _You should have never went to see her._ My subconscious says. She's right. I should have never gone there. I should have chosen the false hope than bloomed inside me and pretend there was still a chance...

"It was really nice to feel the sun on my skin and get a nice glow, stop looking like the walking dead." I say and a smile finds its way on my face just thinking about the sun, the warmth, the ocean and the salty air. It had been too long since I'd felt the sun on my skin, since its warmth warmed my bones and kissed my skin. "But I didn't find what I hoped I would." I say and mood falls lower than the ground.

"What was that?"

"A mother." I say, sadness coating the words. "I wished I could find my mother. But she wasn't there. It was just... _Carla. _Cold, calculating, Carla."

"The opposite of what you were expecting."

"I can't really say the opposite. I was aware that, even if she wanted, she couldn't make a complete turn-around. But I was expecting more, after our conversation in Seattle. I didn't get my more, just a toned-down version of Carla. Underneath, though, she was still the same woman I've known all my life." I say with bitterness and I think back to those times and all the disappointments.

"Our expectations are our best friends and worst enemies at the same time." William says and awaits for my reaction. I take a peak at him and nod.

"You know... it does feel that way. Sometimes, I think it's best if I just stop expecting people to be in a certain way. It seems like the best plan but it's almost impossible."

"It's human nature to have goals and expectations and try to make them reality. But the fact that you don't reach the goal, it doesn't mean you've failed. It only means you did your best. Your best doesn't guarantee success. The other person also has to do their best."

"I told her she had to meet me half way."

"And what did Carla say?"

"Nothing. I guess silence is also an answer."

"I see. How do you feel about that?"

I scrub my hands over my face and sigh.

"I'm sad and tired and angry and just... annoyed." I murmur through my fingertips. "I've made so many moves to get her to want to be my mother, to make her want to be a part of my life, to want me to be a part of her life. It's just... frustrating and hard to accept."

Voicing everything that's circling my head is easier said than done but, slowly and surely, I make my way through everything that happened with Carla. Just by saying things out loud, my anger reaches new heights, only to give way to sadness and despair. It's driving me up the walls and it's taking every last bit of energy to try and make sense of it all, to try and keep everything under control.

_Your control is slipping through your fingers, Anastasia._

"Ana... could I convince you to give your treatment a second chance?"

Will's question makes my head snap in his direction.

"No."

I don't even stop to think about it. In my mind, it's not even a possibility, let alone an option that I would ever take into consideration. Pills would mean losing the last shred of clarity that I possess. _It would also mean that you would no longer be in this emotional roller coaster. Give it a try, Anastasia._

"I am still in control." I whisper.

"And what will happen when you lose control, Anastasia? How will you be able to find your way back if all the breadcrumbs disappear?"

* * *

Present time

* * *

"Anastasia?"

"Yes?"

He is watching me closely. Analyzing. Checking. _Waiting._

We are in his bed, the place he claims has never seen a feminine presence. I should feel good about it. I should feel honored and proud that I'm the first female here, skin on skin, next to him. But all I can think about is the loneliness in his life. How lonely he must have felt without someone to share a smile with him. How lonely he must have felt without a gentle touch or a caring word.

_You had all that with Nicholas. Did you stop feeling lonely then?_

Her voice echoes through my mind, like a small sound in a room with perfect acoustic. It's just an insignificant sound but it becomes so much more as time progresses. It gets to the point where it drowns all the silence, all other sounds, until all you can hear is the shrill. Like a train wreck, it's captivating and terrifying at the same time. You can't block the noise. You can't pretend it's not there. _Oh, I'm here! Always here._

"What are you thinking about?"

Christian's voice breaks through the walls of my subconscious and I'm jolted awake.

"Too many things to name a single one." I reply, my voice raspy as I test the lie on my tongue. It's comforting.

_You're regressing._

"You're still sweating." He says and touches my cold and clammy skin. I shiver from the contact and slowly lean away from his touch. He wastes no time bringing me back into his arms. "It's okay. It's probably just the flu. Does anything hurt?"

I nod into his chest. "My head." I whisper but don't add that it has nothing to do with the flu and everything with the thoughts inside my head.

"I'll have Gail make you some tea and get you some medicine. I'll be right back."

Before I can protest and tell him I'll be fine, Christian gets out of bed and leaves the room. Without him by my side, the bed feels strange and empty. The whole room feels strange and unwelcoming. His presence here is the only thing that could keep me here. His presence in my life is the only thing that keeps me sane. The thought that I have to be strong for him is the only thing that keeps the demons at bay.

_It shouldn't be that way, Anastasia. You should fight for yourself. You should be strong for yourself. _

I get up from the bed and enter the en-suite bathroom, wearing only panties and bra. Both are soaked from perspiration. It's worse than when I was in withdrawal. My hands are shaking and my head is one step away from splitting in two perfect halves, each hemisphere desperately trying to flee as far away from the other as possible. I grip my head in a feeble attempt to make the pain go away but I know it's not going to go away so easily.

The poison is in each cell of my body. There's no escaping that. My mind is slowly turning against me.

_You should take William's help while you still can._ My subconscious whispers as I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes have a wild edge to them.

"What's going on with me?" I whisper as I stare at myself, analyzing each inch of skin. "Am I losing my mind?"

I hear movement to my left, so I turn my head to see the source of the sound and come face to face with a pale girl, staring at me with wide brown eyes. I close my eyes and rub at them. This can't be happening. When I open them back again, there's no sign of anyone being in the same room as me.

"Hello?" I say, slowly walking out of the bathroom. It's empty. _What the hell?_

Walking slow as not to make any noise, I inspect the room, even going as far as looking behind the curtains and in the walk-in closet.

Nothing.

_I must have imagined it._

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Christian's voice makes me jump and gasp. I turn around, shaking and run to him. He almost spills the tea from the mug he's holding.

"Anastasia, what is it?"

"Please, don't leave again. Stay here." I whisper as I clutch to him, afraid to let him go.

"Let's get you back in bed. You're shivering."

I nod and get under the covers.

"Drink this. It'll help with the headache."

I take the painkiller and drown the almost burning tea in one breath.

"Good girl. Let's try and get some sleep, okay?"

Once again, I nod and turn my back to him. Christian spoons me and I melt into his embrace.

_Christian is clawing his way out of the darkness. _My subconscious says, her voice weak and far away. _What are you doing, Anastasia?_

I am returning to it.

* * *

**Soooo... Anastasia is kind of losing it. I was sort of hinting at it for some time now and things are going to get a bit dark. Just a fair warning.  
**

**BUT, did she imagine the girl or was she real?**

**What are your thoughts? I'd love to read them!**

**PS: Manal didn't get to read this because I was in a real hurry. Any mistakes you might find here are mine and mine alone.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello there! Guess who's back?!**

**I've missed you and I can only hope you've missed me! I've had a lot on my plate lately but fear not for I am here once again. All is right in the world (hahaha!).**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

CH. 16

I stare at my reflection in the elevator.

She's staring back at me, making it impossible to avoid her knowing look.

It's my look. It's my reflection. My empty eyes staring back at me, looking for answers that may never be found. It's me but not quite. It's my other side, my other half... the one I'm avoiding during the day and battling during the night.

My broken, former self, has been testing my restrains more than usual. Dreams, mixed with memories and a distant but looming feeling of déja-vu take over as I close my eyes and try to allow my brain some peace and quiet. Yet, the peace never comes. Nor do the demons that usually lurk in the corners. The one entity filling my head while I sleep is _her _and there's nothing I can do to bind her and keep her away.

Right now, she's pushing to be seen, to be felt, to be acknowledged. She wants to break free. _And she's almost succeeded._ My subconscious whispers, an edge to her voice that's eerily familiar to fear. _I am you, after all. _

I blink rapidly and try to focus my attention on my attire. Dressed in a black silk, wrap around dress with an A-line skirt flowing in the air, complementary shoes and make-up, I look the part of the business woman that's come to conquer a tiny bit of the Universe around her. On the inside, however, I am what one would call a mess. A beautiful decorated mess, set on a path to destruction. A Universe that's on the brink of collapse.

_Aren't we all made of stardust, bits and pieces of old worlds mixed into a new one?_

"Love, are you all right?"

_No._

"Yes." I whisper instead and lock eyes with Luke's reflection.

He's been watching me like a hawk this past week. Ever since I've spent the night with Christian, after his breakdown, Luke has been closer than a shadow: ever present, ever silent, ever watchful. Nothing escapes him: my silence, my lack of engaging conversations or my monosyllabic answers. I sleep a lot, swim a lot, eat very little and keep silent. All the while, I'm battling some inner demons that threaten to swallow me whole. Luke knows. He can see it in my every gesture. Yet, he keeps silent.

_For now._

Deep down, I'm curious to see just how far I can stretch this before he puts an end to it. I'm curious to see how much I can self-destruct before anyone realizes and takes action. But this curiosity would come at a price: my own sanity.

_You've already lost it, Anastasia._

I grit my teeth. It's not true. I am still in control.

_Are you? _The woman staring back at me asks, a sinister smile on her lips.

I blink rapidly to get rid of that imagine. She's not real. She's just a part of me that I'm having trouble dealing with. That's all there is to it. I can still control my reactions, I can still decide what's good for me and what would harm me.

_His darkness has entered through the cracks, Anastasia. _My subconscious is whispering, careful not to anger me. _Your mother tore you into pieces and his demons are reaching out to yours._

I wish I could tell her that it's not true. I wish I could tell her that my last attempt at a relationship with my mother hasn't pushed me off the edge. I also wish I could tell her that my proximity to Christian hasn't changed me but I would only be lying to myself if I did that. I know the truth. So does she. She is, after all, a part of me. An important part of me. Maybe the _only _sane part of me.

We both know that Christian's demons are tearing us apart but it's done now. I'm in too deep to cut off all ties with him. I'm in love with him.

Christian Grey has me, whether he knows it or not.

_It all comes down to him, doesn't it? _My subconscious sneers. _You're this close to the brink and all you can think of is him? He can't save you, Anastasia. You know that. _

_Maybe I don't want to be saved, _I mentally reply. Maybe all I want is the sweet sense of nothingness, taking away all the burden and the heavy clouds that always loom just at the edge of my horizon.

I am so tired of constantly fighting myself for a little piece of sanity.

My victories are stating to cost me more than my failures.

.

"What are you offering me, Miss Steele?"

Mr. Roach, owner of Seattle Independent Publishing, knows exactly what I am offering: a bail-out. His company is big, big enough to collapse on its own weight unless he does something about it. It's grown too much inside the small quarters it has. It's time to spread out.

I take a moment to analyze my surroundings. I know Roach is watching my every move, reading my body and face for any sign that I'll betray him. His worries are unfounded but one can never bee to careful with their life's work.

Mr. Roach's office is exactly as I'd pictured it: filled with earthy colors, the smell of old books and glue, all bound in leather, and a massive desk filled with manuscripts that looks like a throne. In a way, I guess that's exactly its purpose: make everyone feel as though they are under his thumb and rule.

"I'm offering a future to your company, Mr. Roach. I can take it to new heights or you can watch as it crumbles in your hands." I say with serenity and a neutral look. There's no need to look desperate or too cocky. If it's something I'm good at, it's being honest and presenting all facts to the person in front of me. Mr. Roach is no exception to my rule.

I'm here to save him, not deceive him. _And achieve some glory in the meantime._

A muscle twitches near his left eye. He knows I'm right. We wouldn't be discussing this if he didn't feel the need to see my offer with his own eyes.

"What does that actually _mean_?"

I stare blankly back at him. Surely he knows or else we wouldn't be sitting here and discussing the take-over.

"It means that I won't simply buy it, strip it of all its assets and sell what's left to the highest bidder. I'll see to it that it grows, reaches its potential and becomes my recommendation card."

I can tell that he believes me but there's something that is making him doubt my words. Probably the person backing me up.

"Sir Stephen Clayton wants to set roots in the US and he's sending you to prospect potential businesses?"

"Sir Stephen Clayton has set his roots. Now it's time I set mine." I reply with a small smile. _Yes, SIP shall be my flag. _"He's not interested in relocating or making his life harder and more complicated than it already is. SIP will _not _be a part of Clayton International."

"Yet, I don't think you would have the money to buy my company on your own. You're here because you have his funding. A young girl like you, searching for places to invest your father's money. You wouldn't be the first to fail, Anastasia Steele. Many spoiled children thought they could make it work because they had the money. It's not all about the money, though. You need to be good at this."

My eyes narrow.

"If I were you, Mr. Roach, I'd take this opportunity and thank the gods. Twisting and turning my offer just to find a flaw isn't going to bring you a new, reliable buyer. It's only going to make me lose interest. SIP is not the only company I could buy with my step-father's _funding._"

His eyes are now wide open, staring at me with a mixture of disbelief, defiance and fear.

"Are you threatening me?"

I suppress an eye roll and try to keep my composure.

"Mr. Roach, I am here because _you _wanted to see me. I am here because _you _deemed my offer worthy enough of a meeting face to face. If you have changed your mind in the meantime, please let me know so we don't continue to waste each other's time. Are we here to close this deal or are we here so you can voice your doubts to me?"

I had thought this would be easy. I have spent many hours pouring into papers and propositions to make sure my offer is more than fair and perfect and Roach's attitude is starting to annoy me. I am the angel he's been asking for and now that I'm here, he's backing off.

Sighing, I raise from my seat and prepare myself to bid him farewell. No answer is also an answer. He's backing away.

_God damn it!_

"What is the plan, if I sign this?" Roach's voice cuts through my trail of thought and everything seems to jerk to a stop.

I take a moment to bask in the euphoria of my first conquest. It seems that even though I may be on the edge of the cliff when it comes to my personal life, business is a whole different chapter. It seems as though this part of me is made to win, no matter the circumstances.

_Sound familiar, Anastasia?_ My subconscious whispers, a bitter edge to her voice as she pulls Christian's face in front of my eyes.

_Yes, we are alike._ Two pieces of a broken puzzle.

"I shall come and work with you for a month. During this time, I will know everyone there is to know around here. I shall attend meetings, as your replacement. I shall be your right hand and no one will ever be the wiser. At the end of the month, I will decide who gets to stay and who leaves."

Mr. Roach's mouth presses into a hard line. The thought that people could lose their jobs is unsettling to him but he knows that if he fails to take action now, many more could suffer the same fate in the near future. He rises from his seat and stretches his right hand towards me.

"We have a deal, Miss Steele."

I smile.

"I look forward to our collaboration, Mr. Roach." I say as I grip his hand in a firm handshake. There is no turning back now.

_Maybe there's still hope for you, Anastasia. _My subconscious says, unsure whether to count this as a victory or as a new method to avoid the demons inside me.

Mr. Roach and I exchange a few more words before he leads me out of his office and takes me on a tour of the building with Luke silently following our steps.

Many people stare at me, some of them recognize me while others simple stare, jaws hanging open. My scars are visible but on this occasion, I'm using them as a shield or, better said, as a weapon. I'm going to own this company and if people don't know the real me now, they'll probably never accept me. And I want their acceptance. I want them to _want _to work for me. The only way to do that is to be honest about myself. Well, as honest as I need to be. No need to get too close and personal. _That could turn out to be a bad move._

"Anastasia, I'd like to introduce you to Jack Hyde, our chief-editor. He's one of the most important people in our team." Roach says as soon as we enter an office almost as big as his.

The things I have read about Jack Hide have been confusing, to say the least. A brilliant editor with a bad boy aura, whose personal assistants keep quitting as soon as they have the chance. Many of them haven't lasted more than a few months but none of them have ever filed a complaint against their boss. _That is odd, to say the least._

My instinct tells me that Mr. Hyde has something to hide.

_Well, let's find out. _My subconscious says with a smirk, ready to toy with him for a bit, like a cat does with the mouse.

The first thing I notice about Hyde is the fact that he does _not _look like an editor. He _is _wearing a suit but other than that, nothing else fits the portrait. He's got long, reddish hair and an earring in his left lobe. A leather jacket and the picture of a biker would be complete but where does the façade end and the real man begins?

The second thing I notice is his cocky attitude and a smirk that makes my skin crawl.

_No, Mr. Hyde. I am not your new assistant._

Judging by the loon on his face, he would be more than happy to have me occupy that position but, as Americans would say, _tough luck, buddy._

I watch as Roach introduces me as the new Vice President and Mr. Hyde's smirk is wiped off instantly. This new development is probably not what he had been expecting. Can't say I pity him, though. There's something in his eyes, in his posture, in his demeanor, that screams _danger. _

And it's not the childish danger than girls dream of controlling and making better. No, it's much more than that. There's an underlying note of anger in Mr. Hyde's eyes that seems one second away from unleashing unto unsuspecting victims.

My skin prickles at the thought.

"Jack, I'd like to sit and chat but I've got a lunch I need to attend. Anastasia, we'll keep in touch. Goodbye."

With that said, Roach retreats and leaves me with Hyde and Luke.

_A man of few words. _I say to myself as I watch Roach as he closes the door behind him with a loud _click. _Or maybe the loud noise is only in my head.

"So... you're the new face in the company."

I turn and find Hyde a few feet away from me, analyzing each inch of skin that's available to the eye. It makes my skin crawl and I have to fight the urge to step back and put as much distance between me and him. _That would be a sign of weakness._

So, instead, I stand a bit straighter and smirk. _Must look and act the part._

"Many would argue that I'm the most important face in the company." I say as I step around him and take a seat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. I'm betting on him taking his _alpha _image and sitting behind the desk.

He doesn't disappoint.

"Why is that? Because you're Stephen Clayton's step-daughter? He's on another continent, little girl." He sneers, a wicked smile on his lips as he unbuttons his jacket and makes himself comfortable on his very own throne.

_I wouldn't be too comfortable if I were you, Mr. Hyde._

"Is that why my presence here intimidates you, Mr. Hyde?" I ask, cold and collected as my eyes narrow.

_Enough chit-chat, it's time to put the dog to heel._

"I have looked into your _activity _within this company and I have to say, the man standing in front of me doesn't rise to the image I had made up. I thought you would be someone who recognizes when to get along with the higher powers and when to challenge. Let me tell you, Mr. Hyde, I won't lose any sleep when it comes to your attitude. No need to play the bad boy with me. Bad boys are not in my flavor palette."

His eyes narrow.

"Christian Grey is in your flavor palette."

"Maybe. If I remember correctly, that shouldn't interest you. What should interest you is that, starting Monday, I will be your direct superior."

"Well, if my direct superior is fucking the man who wants to buy this company, then I suppose I do have a slight interest in that."

My smirk widens. His jaw clenches.

"And if I were fucking the man who wants to buy this company, what could you possibly do about that, Mr. Hyde?" I ask, my tone taunting.

As much as I'm smiling, I'd like to choke him just as bad. This weasel will definitely not be counting many days under my command.

"Roach is too old and stupid to see it but everyone else has eyes to see and ears to hear." Hyde spits in my direction, the anger once again taking control of his thoughts and mouth.

"Just as everyone else has eyes to see and ears to hear about your previous assistants?" I ask, collected once again and determined not to let him make me lose my temper.

His mouth shuts instantly so I take advantage of this momentum and deliver the final blow.

"I'm not here just to say hello, Mr. Hyde. Consider this my little warning: don't fuck with me. Not when you're in the position of losing more than just your job. Am I being clear enough?"

He nods dumbly as his eyes keep flickering between me and Luke. He's probably mistaking my threat against his freedom as a threat against his bodily integrity.

_Idiot!_

.

"What do you think?"

I'm staring out the window as cars and buildings fly by but I know Luke heard my question loud and clear.

"What do I think about your success with Mr. Roach or what do I think about this attempt at channeling your inner demons into something that's not destructing you from inside?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself." I whisper as I continue to stare out the window.

_So many people. So many lives._ I can't help but wonder what burden each person carries. Is it heavy? Is it self-inflicted, just like mine? It is easy to lock away? Easy to manage? Or is it eating away at them, second by second, inch by inch? Are they on the edge of the cliff or are they miles away from it?

"Why don't you talk to William?"

Oh, yes. How could I forget? William seems to be the answer to everything, at least in Luke's perspective. But there have been others before William. Many therapists, many treatments, many results... but in the end, nothing ever went away, it only became easier to bear and easier to hide.

_Except for the darkness. Darkness does not want to be hidden._

"This is not about Paul."

"It doesn't have to be about Paul. William is here to help you. If you don't let him do that, you are wasting his time."

"Then maybe he should leave." I whisper, my words hanging in the air like thick fog.

Luke sighs and grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

I look away and turn my eyes to the streets in front of us.

"Love..."

His term of endearment hangs in the air between us. I can tell he's getting more frustrated with each try that I block.

I sigh and look away from him, away from the hope in his eyes. I've abandoned hope a long time ago. In its place hangs only determination.

"Luke... you of all people know just how much I want this darkness to disappear. But it's not a matter of choice but a matter of acceptance. I can't chose from one day to the other to just move on, to just be better. I'm aware of that. However, talking about painful things and reopening old wounds over and over is not the way to do that either."

"Why don't you try something else then?"

A simple and effective question, some would argue. Why don't I try something else? Why don't I push myself to step away from the edge of the cliff? Why don't I simply do something, instead of simply looking at the nothingness staring back at me?

The answer is simple: I'm tired.

I'm so tired of everything around me to the point that I'm physically hurting. This deep ache has settled in my bones, slowing down my movement, draining me of any energy I could ever have. Just being with Christian in that room, knowing that he needs so much of my energy, almost had me on the brink of a panic attack.

I'm not able to give more than I've already given to those around me.

It may not look like I've given so much to those around me. It may not look like it took a lot from my side to keep sane and become this victor that everyone sees whenever they look at my scars, whenever they look at me.

But it does.

Each smile, each gesture, each perfect posture, each perfect comment, each glance, each joke... it's all draining the life from me. It's draining the little life that I've managed to save for myself.

It's all too much.

Yet, I keep pushing forward, keep trying to find resources to continue this charade but William knows. I can see it in the glances he throws Luke whenever he leaves after a session, by the way he carefully studies each muscle on my face, by the way he searches deep within my eyes for a strength that's not there... He knows. He knows that the cliff has an abrupt ending and I'm on the edge, gazing down. And he's watching, one step away, enough to give me space but not enough to let me fall. Watching and waiting...

I've feared that Christian demons would end up releasing mine but, in the end, it seems like my demons did not need any push. They're still chained, still restricted and locked away from the world, deep within the confines of my mind but their prison is not as strong as it used to be. The fact that they are reaching out to mine would be of no consequence if I was strong enough to deal with them.

_It's all because of her!_ My subconscious sneers, bringing up painful images of my mother. _You should let her go, Anastasia. Before she ends up sucking the life out of you, too._

Easier said than done, though.

"What should I try, Luke? A different doctor? A different drug? A different country? A different entourage?"

_God only knows I've tried them all._

"A different attitude."

I snort. He knows exactly what I think about _willpower._

"What about Grey?" Luke asks, calm and collected and so sure he's going to get a reaction out of me.

I don't disappoint as my eyes turn to him once again and my lips press into a frown.

"What about him?" I ask, my undivided attention set upon him. I can tell he's biting back a smirk.

"He sees you like the light at the end of his tunnel. As the successful example that he can conquer his demons. You're going to prove him wrong."

"I won't be the first disappointment in his life." I reply, a few minutes later, after I've managed to control the pain that rippled through my body at the thought of being a disappointment for Christian. The thought makes my heart clench.

"True. But that doesn't mean it won't be one of the most important." Luke continues to say, unaware of the struggle within me. Or maybe he's very aware.

I bite the bait.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're the first woman in his life to make him want to change, to make him want to heal. Take it from a man's point of view: we never change. We just become more and more the person we always were. He's becoming that man for you."

_And I'm becoming a shadow._

"You owe it to yourself to have that man. You owe it to yourself to allow yourself to heal."

"So instead of him changing for me, I'm the one supposed to change for him?"

"You're supposed to get the guy, Anastasia. Stop pining for other people who don't want to be a part of your life. Life is too short already, don't make it even shorter by wasting time with pain and regret."

_He's right and you know it._

"Since when did you become such a wise man?"

"Since I've started watching you wither away before my eyes."

And just like that, Luke shuts my mouth and gives me a lot to think about.

Luke has been by my side even before I stepped into the twisted and complicated life of a teenager. He's seen me when I still held on to hope, when my demons were just a part of fairy tales. He's also seen me when those fairy tales stopped being a part of my imagination and started being a part of me.

"Has he called?"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my memories and brings me back into the present.

Yes, he has called and texted and insisted that we meet, at least for lunch. I should feel lucky and proud that even with his tight schedule these days, Christian still tries to make time for me. I should feel marginally happy. Unfortunately, I don't. All I can think about is that girl that I've imagined outside his bathroom. That particular episode has me scared out of my wits.

"Why don't you give him a call back and arrange something?"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my memories once again. I do my best to look as though I'm here with him, in the car, not running through the maze inside my head.

"Since when are you playing the match maker?" I ask, my eyes narrowed and my tone accusatory.

"The match has already been made."

My eyes meet his and I find no hesitation there.

_Maybe your demons are a perfect match for each other. _My subconscious whispers.

_I honestly doubt that._

.

"What do you want out of all of this?"

I'm in a deserted coffee shop with William standing in front of me, the table separating us. Words have poured out of my mouth and I could almost swear I've seen some of them spill on the shiny gray marble top between us.

I'm at odds with myself, as I've probably been all my life. To move on and let go of the past or to keep living like the past is the only that matters?

_You have to move on._

So easy to say but so hard to do!

William looks and waits for an answer but offers me an indulgent smile when he realizes that I don't plan on answering him in the near future.

"How about we go back to the beginning of our sessions, Anastasia? When you started your recovery from an induced addiction as well as from being kidnapped by your step-brother and witnessing his suicide, what was the end goal?"

The goal... one has to have such a thing in their lives. The force which drives us towards anything, the motivation to do things a certain way and not the other way, the meaning behind everything. Such a simple question yet I struggle to answer it.

"My goal is peace." I whisper, minutes later since William has uttered the last word of his question. I'm not sure it is the truth, though. During these last few weeks, my purpose has become hazy.

"One must have peace within if he wants to have peace around him."

_There's a tornado inside you._

"You are not at peace with yourself, Anastasia. You have to start with that."

"To have peace within means to let go." I whisper, hugging my mug and letting the warmth enter my bones. I sigh in delight.

"Can you let go?" Will asks and tips his head to look into my eyes.

"I have a hard time letting go. Good or bad, it's all here, in my head." I say, a sad smile playing on my lips as I lock eyes with him and shrug.

"Will you let him go?"

Now there's the million dollar question: can I let Christian Grey go if it means that it's the best for both of us? I'm not even sure what's good for me anymore.

"I'm not entirely sure I can, at this point. Christian Grey may have become the light at the end of my tunnel, just like I am his." I say, aware that my reply might insinuate the fact that I'm becoming dependent on him. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. How can one be sure it's love and not a sickness?

Paul's voice rings in my head. _Isn't love a sickness?_

I mentally shake my head and get rid of the memory of his words, whispered in frenzied moments filled with madness and drug use.

Will doesn't miss the sad undertone to my statement and presses his lips into a thin line.

"It could be easy to mistake it. There is a fine line between attachment and dependence but I believe you'll do just fine. You still see his flaws and everything else he has to work on while also keeping in mind your own flaws and everything you need to work on. I think that's a healthy balance."

I suppose Will is right. I don't glorify Christian, nor do I choose to overlook his issues.

"Tell me more about the girl. What makes you believe she was a figment of your imagination and not a reality?"

"Finding Christian in his playroom after he trashed everything had been a shock to me. I received a call from Taylor, almost begging me to come and see Christian and drove like a bat from hell. I didn't know what to expect, to be honest. Seeing him like that... so vulnerable, torn apart by his demons... made me see myself as though I was looking into a mirror. I saw myself tied up to that chair, prey to my own demons. In the brink of an eye, I was right on the brink of the cliff once again."

All the memories and all the feelings rushed into me in a second, knocking the breath from my lungs. The shock almost had me paralyzed but I did not have time for me. Christian needed me and I had to deliver the image of the strong and powerful woman. So I did... but it came at a price.

_It always does._

"What stopped you from taking the final step?"

William's question snaps me out from my thoughts and I look at him, confused. I find him looking at me with a mix of curiosity and pain, as though he's afraid of my answer. Maybe he is.

"I had to stay strong and do whatever was in my power to help Christian." I reply without even thinking about it. Just like that moment with Christian, the answer was natural and instant. There is no need to think it through, no need to sit and ponder.

"It is in moments of someone else's weakness that we find our inner power."

"Maybe. I failed, though. As soon as I thought I had my emotions under control, I snapped." I say, bitterness coating each of my words.

"What did Christian do?"

"He has no idea of my _episode_."

"Why not show your own scars when his are for you to see?"

"This isn't _show me yours and I'll show you mine._"

"Then what is it?"

_Good question, Anastasia._

"I don't know." I murmur as I stare into my cold mug of a coffee. "What I feel for Christian is powerful and scary at the same time."

"Giving someone power to mend or break us tends to do that." William replies with a small smile.

"My mother has that kind of power." I say and grip the mug tighter as my anger towards my mother grips my mind like a vice.

"It's only normal that Carla has this... power. But Samantha, Stephen and even Kate also have this power. Unlike Carla, they've always been there when you needed them. Your mother wasn't your choice to make. Your friends and everyone else around you are."

Silence settles over us as I wander within the labyrinth of my mind.

"You can choose to be afraid or you can choose to try and see where it leads."

"It's not a matter of choice." I reply bitterly.

"What is it then?"

"It's in too deep. Like a disease that's been found too late, already running free in the bloodstream and infecting everything in its path."

"Every disease has its cure."

"For some, death is the only cure."

"Fortunately for us, this is not the case."

I keep silent. If I say _yes, _it might be a lie. Will doesn't comment on my lack of reply but I'm more than certain that Luke's watchful glances will double.

_They should. Many demons hide in those dark corners, Anastasia._

"Anastasia, you are strong. Everything that you've been through has shaped you into the person standing in front of me today. Trust me when I say that I couldn't have been prouder than I am right now. Self doubt doesn't belong here. And if I need to remind you this on a daily basis, I will. No exception. Until it sticks. Until you believe me. Until you shut up whatever voice is whispering the contrary. Never doubt even for a moment that you're worth everyone's love and support."

My tears flow down my cheeks and splash on the marble table and I cannot utter a single word. Not even a _thank you _for his words.

"I know it's hard, Anastasia. I can only imagine how hard it might get. But never forget that we are here. One phone call away. You don't have to go through this alone. You _shouldn't _go through this alone."

I nod, wishing the lump in my throat would go away and allow me to thank this man who has become so much more than just a person hired to listen to all my crap.

"Thank you." I whisper, my voice raw and full of emotion.

Will smiles and covers both my hands with his, squeezing lightly.

"Always."

"I love him." I whisper, my throat closing at the mere thought of it. Saying it out loud makes it more dangerous than I could ever believe.

"I thought you did, love." Will replies with a small nod.

"It's scary."

"It usually is. It's also worth every moment. Now, are you ready to go back and fight your fear or should we order another cup of this horrid thing they call coffee?" Will asks with a grimace as he chokes the last sip of coffee from his cup.

I can't help but smile and shake my head _no. _

* * *

**Any thoughts? I'd love to read them! **

**'Till next time... **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello there! **

**How are you guys doing? Looking forward to a new chapter? Well, here it is!**

**Once again, thank you very much for all your reviews and faves and follows! It really means a lot to me and it keeps me going even though I sometimes spend hours without writing a word. **

**I hope you all like this chapter. It contains a bit more insight into Anastasia's past and it also has Christian in it. What could you possibly want more? And yes, more action is on the horizon now that the wheels have been set in motion. Anyone excited?**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

Ch. 17

They say there's a moment when our spirit freezes in time.

_I'm standing in front of his gravestone, touching the cold marble as I numbly allow the heat from my flesh to transfer in the cold object. It's odd. I've given him more than I ever thought possible, more than my mind ever believed could give, more than my body was able to give. His absence is eating away at me, whether I want to admit it or not. If he were alive, many things would be very different. My mother would be different, my life wouldn't be an endless line of victories and defeats and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have these inside and outside scars. I wouldn't be marked by his absence. But being here closes a gape in my chest. The past should always remain in the past._

They say that you're stronger with each victory.

_It's odd to be here, a few days after I've been released from the hospital. But I know I couldn't go and pick up my pieces without coming to see him one more time. One last time. Luke's watching my every move while also keeping an eye around for any suspicious movement. It feels wrong to be here, to stare at this piece of granite with my heart in my throat. His ashes rest here, like a valuable antique in the family safe. It's all there is left of him: ashes._

"_I forgive you, brother." I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips. The words are much clearer in my head. That's all that matters._

The light in my room is muted, like a diluted fog that wraps around me, its milky texture hurting my head and making me rub the heels in my hands in my eyes. God only knows how much I've been sleeping but if the pounding head ache that's threatening to split my skull in two is any indication, it's late. Then again, considering the fact that I've gone to bed at 5 PM, even 5 AM would be considered _late._

I close my eyes as another memory makes its way in my conscious mind.

_It's hard to keep track of time. His dosages have started to get erratic and food has been scarce. He's more high than sober and my busted veins are a witness to that. I've stopped fighting him and resorted to silence. It bothers him more than my pleas. My silence makes him suspicious but there's no reason for him to do that. The drugs are making him paranoid and I'm starting to feel the burn. And the thirst._

"_I love you, Anastasia. I've always had. All you have to do is feel the same and all this will be over. I promise."_

_The monster standing in front of me has no traces of him and all I can feel is hate._

_I lick my chapped lips and allow a sad smile to form._

"_We'll both be dead before that. _That _is the only escape we'll be granted."_

As a sign of immense stupidity or immense bravery, I allow the memories I've pushed away to wash over me, immersing me into a sea of mixed emotions. I stand and lock my door before walking into the bathroom, watching my reflection as I come closer to the mirror. With each step, my reflection is clearer: bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes, pale skin and messy hair. I look years older than I should.

"_Shut up!"_

_My right cheek stings from the force of his slap as my head turns left, the echo bouncing off the walls. It hurts more than I expected. Then again, I've never been hit before. My mother uses words to hurt me, not physical violence._

_I try my best to remember that I love him. He would never do this to me if he were sane, if we were to understand the impact of his actions. He would never do this to me if we were still himself. I love him. I struggle to remember that, sometimes._

_He grabs my jaw roughly and forces me to look him in the eyes. Those crazy eyes. I grit my teeth. He's still in there, somewhere. If only I could get him to come back to me. All I need is one chance. One real chance to make him look around. One real chance to make him look at me. _Really _look at me._

"_You'll submit yourself to me, you'll see. I'll wipe that challenge from your eyes, day by day." He hisses and grips me tighter, trying to get my lips to cooperate and kiss him. I bite down hard instead, drawing blood._

"_You bitch!"_

_I know when this second blow will come. I can almost taste the blood in my mouth. It doesn't make it easier to bear, thought._

_I hate him._

That particular memory makes me freeze in place. I gently touch my lip and look at my hand, almost expecting the blood to be there. I can almost feel the metallic tang on my tongue. It's only a memory, though.

_He's dead. He can't touch me anymore._

Somehow, that particular thought doesn't bring me comfort. There are moments when his absence is more important than what he did to me. There are moments when I close my eyes and with the right amount of focus, I can hear his laugh, back when we were inseparable. He was my other half. My better half. He knew what to say to calm me, he knew what to say to ease my ache, he knew what to say to chase the demons away and restrain them.

_He's gone now._

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. It only took one bullet and the one person I've let in even more than Sam and Nick had died. I saw the light from his hollow eyes be extinguished, his fragile spirit drift away like the soft breeze of the sea. I blinked and he was gone, leaving behind a bloody mess and a broken girl, unable to understand how it got to that point.

I still can't understand. I still can't explain it.

"_I'm sorry! Forgive me, Ana! Please forgive me! I'll never do it again, I swear!"_

_I stare at him. It's not the first time that he's hit me and I know it won't be the last. What can one say in this situation? Whatever I say will be used against me. I know that now. But keeping silent will also play against me._

"_Please, stop." I whisper, my face hurting from the force of his blow._

"_Say you'll forgive me, Ana. Please!"_

"_I forgive you." I say, but deep down, I'm not addressing the man in front of me. I'm speaking to the man who would have never done this. He's the only one who would ever deserve my forgiveness. "Please, let me go. My whole body is numb. I can't feel my hands anymore." I say as I fight to keep my body awake and aware._

"_Let me give you something to make you feel better." He says as he approaches me with the syringe._

"_No!" I scream, but it's too late. The tip has already pierced my skin. _

_It's too late..._

I blink and focus my attention on my left, out the window and into the orchard behind the house. My feet move back into the room. I hastily grab a random cardigan from the walk in closet and put on a pair of Keds slip ons, foregoing socks.

The floor to ceiling window slides to the side without making a sound and allows the low fog to lap at my feet. Goosebumps appear on my skin, the humid cold wrapping around me like a blanket. I close my eyes and breathe in the cold and somewhat fresh air.

_I'm cold. I've been cold for a few days now, shivering and feeling like something dead has taken residence inside my stomach. Just the thought of that has my mouth filling with saliva and my stomach in my throat. A cold sweat has covered my entire body. _

"_You're in withdrawal."_

_His voice makes me sit still, frozen in place so as not to anger him._

"_You're cold, you head feels funny, can't form a coherent thought, you're shivering. You're in withdrawal, Anastasia. I can make it stop, you know? Just say the word and I'll make it go away."_

_I grit my teeth in response. He snickers. The sound is dry and hollow._

"_Didn't think so either but it was worth a try."_

_He crouches in front of me. We are eye level. There's something in his eyes that has me covering back into the chair, eager to put as much distance between us as possible. He notices. Nothing escapes him. My eyes narrow._

"_I see you haven't reconsidered." He murmurs as he traces my jaw with his index finger. Even though he's not applying much pressure, it hurts. _

"_I'm sorry." He whispers so low that I almost fail to catch it. "I thought it would be easier. I thought you loved me back. I was wrong. I see that now."_

_There's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. It scares me._

"_What do you want?" I hiss, unable to move my jaw without a blinding pain kicking me in the gut. I idly wonder just how bad it must be. Is it broken? I can't tell. There's too much pain that my nerves have to process that it's come to the point where _everything _hurts._

"_Your love." He states and reaches behind him. _

_._

"Are you planning on staring out the garden all day?"

"I don't see why that would pose as a problem to you." I reply without turning towards Luke. To be honest, his appearance is not a surprise. He was probably itching for me to get out of my room.

"Grey has called. Again. When are you going to throw him a bone?"

I can sense the annoyed undertone of his voice and turn to face him. His eyes narrow.

"Just how much did you sleep?" I don't miss the frown on his face and his calculating look.

"I don't know. What's the time?"

"Ana..."

"I'm _fine." _I cut him off, stressing _fine _more than necessary. "Please do not make me talk about it. Will is having too much fun with that to take it away from him."

"You make it sound as though you're doing it for him and not for your own welfare."

I bite my lip and keep silent. Nothing that I can say will appease him.

"You're out here, in the cold, refusing to speak to anyone. The only thing that has driven you this week was yesterday's meeting with Roach. You've been acting strange ever since you've gone to Grey and stayed the night with him. He's calling you like crazy and you're not budging. Why is that?"

"That's none of your concern." I hiss and narrow my eyes.

_Being defensive will only prove his point._ My subconscious whispers, taking note of each tense muscle in his body.

"_You _are my concern._"_ He says and takes a step towards me, closing the distance between us but leaving a foot between us. "When are you finally going to understand that? It has nothing to do with Stephen paying me and everything to do with you. I've moved fucking mountains to get to you, to find you. But I never did find you, did I?" Luke whispers the last part, almost afraid of my answer. His hand finds mine and he squeezes gently. "Watching this unfold... it's hurting us as much as it's hurting you."

"I'm fine."

"The hell you are!" Luke shouts, making me jump and yelp at the same time. "What did he do? I swear I'll hunt him down and drag him here!"

_Deep breaths, Anastasia. Deep breaths._

"He hasn't done anything. This is all me and everything that's happened with my mother, with Paul..." I whisper, looking out to the garden once again, afraid to let him see the emotions in my eyes. "Being there with him while he exorcised his demons has made me think about mine._ Really think._ I've lost so much time, so much energy and emotions... I'm not sure if it was worth it in the end."

Silence settles over us. Luke seems to always know when to speak and when to keep silent. It always works and now is not an exception.

"He reminded me that there's no one at the end of the tunnel." I say with a shrug and watch as Luke grinds his teeth, moments away from breaking something. Except there's nothing here to break. It's just the open air, the fog and the cold. And my loneliness. It's so odd that I feel lonely in the sea of people that want to be a part of my life. I guess that's the saddest part: I feel lonely even though I'm not alone.

"You know that's not true." The sadness in his voice catches me off guard and I turn just in time to catch the emotions in his eyes before he puts on a much braver face, hiding away the raw emotions.

My lips curl into a small smile and I squeeze his arm.

"You know what I mean. At the end of the day, it's just me and the silence. And it's _not_ the companionable type."

"I'd hate to sound like William but that's within your power."

"I know that." I say defensively, before I have a chance to think through my answer.

"Yet, you're keeping Grey at arms length. Why?" Luke asks as we slips his jacket over my shoulders, moments before another chill manages to run down my spine and make me shiver.

"I like him. I'd go as far as to say that I've fallen for him. But I can't risk becoming his crouch or vice versa. Letting someone in before you've accepted yourself is the perfect setting for a disaster."

"What is the part that you need to accept, Anastasia?"

_You know no one will ever love people like us, Ana. We're too fucked up. We have too much baggage. You can fight it all you want but you know I'm right. No one will ever understand you better than me. No one. I've been by your side each time, with each smoke, each pill and each cut. I was there when no one else was, when no one else was allowed. You know why? Because people like us _belong _together. Put anyone else in that equation and it's a disaster._

With a bit of effort, I make his voice recede into the depths of my mind and look at Luke, conveying with my eyes what my mouth cannot utter: _everything._

.

It's Sunday and I'm picking up Kate from the airport. Not my first option for a Sunday morning, mind you, but once she called and made me feel like the last person on Earth for not giving any sign for two weeks, I kind of had to do this or risk banishment. Because having a conscience apparently sucks.

I'm wearing the clothes any rich woman my age would wear: a Roberto Cavalli cotton and crocheted lace maxi dress, beige leather wedges and Ray Bans. Apparently, leaving the car without them is strictly prohibited. So is leaving Luke's side. _Whatever. _I suppress an eye roll and scan the crowd in search of Katherine. They should have landed 30 minutes ago and I've yet to see her, or anyone else from the Kavanagh clan for that matter. I'm really hoping she didn't call me all the way here so she'd leave me waiting as a punishment.

The moment I spot her, my face splits into a wide grin. She's a fierce Amazon on a mission. _Crap! She looks pissed. _Unable to wait while she struts in my general direction, I start walking, Luke close in tow. Her stance softens when she catches a glimpse of me.

"I thought we were never going to make it back, I swear to fucking God!"

While Kate's busy being Kate and talks way too loud for a place filled with people that can eavesdrop anytime on our conversation – well, it's one sided at the moment but still – I also catch Ethan's eye and wave him over.

"The fucker on my right couldn't keep his eyes to himself and constantly had to be reminded to look elsewhere besides my boobs. I swear to God! And mom couldn't stop moaning about having to spend the last few days without dad who just _had _to cut his vacation three days short because the Apocalypse was near if he didn't come back to Seattle right then! Worst. Vacation. Ever!" She mutters and looks me over with a critical eye.

_Too critical._ My subconscious whispers, alerting me of her narrowed eyes.

"You've lost weight." She notes, no trace of sarcasm or amusement.

_Flat voice, narrowed eyes. This is not good, Anastasia._

"You've got a tan." I reply with an equal flat voice and hold her gaze through my sunglasses, daring her to make another comment.

"I thought the time of self imposed starvation and sleep deprivation was long gone." She hisses and throws a look in Ethan's direction. I do the same. He's only a few meters away. "We'll talk about it later." She whispers just as Ethan reaches us, throwing a pointed stare just in case I missed her tone.

"Ana!"

_Ah, the sound of my salvation!_

I turn to the sound of Ethan's voice as he reaches us, gripping me in a tight hug and spins me around. I'm a little wobbly on my feet when he decides he's had enough. It's always like this but I can't say I'd have it any other way. His presence stirs something within me, like a coat of balm over a burn.

_Careful there, Anastasia. Someone else before him was the balm to your wounds... how did that end?_

The sting of those thoughts makes me shut my eyes and breathe in deep for a moment. Thinking about the things I've had and lost always leaves me shaky on my legs. Memories that bring me sorrow and leave me longing for those better times, those times when I've almost reached the point I've always wanted to reach: inner peace. Only it always ended with a disaster.

"You all right?" Ethan whispers in my right ear as he squeezes the opposite shoulder. I melt into his side embrace and nod as we follow Luke and Kate who walk next to each other.

"I think I needed Kate's attitude." I say, my voice a little louder than needed, just so she can catch the amusement and the hint of fondness in my voice.

As expected, Kate wastes no time and throws a good comeback.

"Of course you needed my attitude! You're turning into a pansy!" She says, turning her head and winking, making sure I'm not taking her too seriously.

"Shut up, Kate." Ethan mutters just loud enough for her to catch it.

Like the mature woman she is, she flips him off. I bite back a laugh, opting to bite my lip and look away from their childish behavior. And look straight into a starling pair of green eyes. _Mia Grey. _

Doing my best to look inconspicuous, I look around in case Christian brought her to the airport. I'm proven right when I see his profile, speaking with Jason Taylor, his ever-present shadow.

All it takes is an elbow into his ribs and a pointed stare in my direction and I'm locking eyes with him. My steps falter and Ethan's sneakers squeak on the floor due to my sudden stop. Luke turns and looks at me. I can see him with the corner of my eye but my attention is all on the man standing less than 200 feet from me.

Time no longer flows, frozen in the hourglass as I take in each detail of his face. Is he upset than I've kept him at a distance from the demons that circle me? Can he see the darkness around me, swallowing me whole, leaving no trace of the person I've tried to hard to forge this past year? Can he see the pain etched on my skin and carved within my bones? This sickness that keeps coming back in spite of all my efforts to keep it at bay?

"Anastasia?"

Luke's voice registers somewhere along the way, in the confines of my mind and I absently turn to the source of the sound. What should I say? I have absolutely no idea. I turn my attention back to Christian in time to see him march in my direction. Ethan's arm slips from my shoulder. I find myself angling my body towards him, anticipating his presence as though it is second nature.

My skin tingles in anticipation.

"Hi."

All air leaves my lungs as his breath washes over me and I feel my body calm under the constant buzzing of his presence. The demons bare their teeth and hiss, poised to strike, while the darkness stretches its tendrils, happy to make another victim. _Come closer._

I take a step back.

"Hi."

Christian frowns.

"What's wrong?"

_What isn't?_ My subconscious replies, her tone short and sour, unhappy with the way I've been handling my emotions this past week. It's official: I have split personality. One half is dragging me into a black hole while the other half is dragging me away from said black hole.

"Nothing. Just a little surprised, that's all."

He studies me for a few more moments and decides to not touch the subject.

"Let's have lunch." Christian blurts and regards me with anticipation.

It's my turn to frown as I look ahead to meet Kate's probing gaze.

"I'm with Kate and Ethan. They just came back from holiday and I was thinking -"

"That it's a wonderful idea!" Kate jumps in as she bounds towards me with a wide smile. "We won't mind, Ana. We have plenty of time to catch up and _talk._" She says, finishing with a pointed stare at the end of her phrase. "Plus, I have to unpack, Ethan has to go back home tomorrow... it'll be busy. Luke can drive us to the apartment and come back to collect you from wherever you're having lunch, right?"

Luke seems at a loss, waiting for my decision instead of speaking.

_His presence keeps the darkness at bay. Don't be a fool!_ My subconscious hisses, ignoring the sneering demons behind her. I find myself nodding before I'm aware of doing it in the first place.

"It's settled then. Come."

Christian wastes no time in taking my hand and marching us through the sea of people as though we're taking a pleasant stroll through the park and not as though I'm having trouble keeping up with him and almost trip on my own feet a few times. I suppress a huff and do my best to keep up with him.

Why are we in a hurry anyway?

"One week I've waited for you to call me back. One _long_ week. I'm not a patient man, Anastasia. Are you testing me to see just how far I'll go to see you? To hear from you? Is that it?"

There's a fire in his eyes that I had yet to see. Until now. His eyes soften a touch when he looks down at me, as we wait for a cab to come and pick us up.

"Why are you hiding from me, Anastasia?" His fingers lightly touch my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine, and rest on the back of my neck.

"I'm not." I whisper and look away from his piercing gray eyes.

I can almost_ hear_ his teeth grinding. The urge to shrink away is strong. I do my best to fight it.

"We need to talk."

_Crap! _

.

The short cab ride to Escala is silent and filled with unspoken questions. The driver keeps glancing at us in the rear-view mirror as though he's also sensing the tension between us. Or maybe he's just noticing the track marks on my arms and the scars on my wrists. Either way, I'm confident we are a sight to see.

We reach Escala and, in no time, we are in the underground parking, walking towards a shiny gray Mercedes SLK. I can't help but think back to José's whistle when I told him I'll be living alone in a mansion. _How the other half lives._ How we live, indeed.

"Nice car." The sarcasm in my voice _almost _doesn't show.

"I know." Christian replies, a boyish smile lighting up his features in a way that makes me smile back. He unlocks the car and steps around to open my door. I resist the urge to do a curtsy and slide into the car, taking a moment to enjoy the way the leather molds to my frame, caressing my arms.

"I know a place near Olympia, _Sauvage Cuisine. _They cook whatever they've caught or gathered."

I nod absently as I think about the conversation ahead of us. Food is the farthest thing from my mind but I'll comply as long as I know I'll have a way out in case I feel the need to end our conversation. After sending Luke a quick text to let him know my whereabouts, I lean back in my seat and watch the scenery pass by.

"Were you planning on answering my calls anytime soon?"

The hurt in his voice is obvious and it makes me frown.

"Yes." The word seems foreign as it rolls off my tongue.

"When were you going to do that? Tomorrow? The next day? Next week? Next month?!"

"Christian..." I say and sigh. This is not the place or time to talk about this.

"What?" His eyes find mine behind the glasses and I lean my head back and close them, taking the glasses away. "What is it Anastasia? I'm driving myself crazy here, thinking about all the fucking possible scenarios! And you won't even pick up the fucking phone to tell me you're alright!"

"If you've put me in this car to scream at me, you might as well stop here and let me out." I hiss, unwilling to play this game. I've been in it too many times and I'm not in the mood to defend myself or my actions. I don't have the energy for it and I'm becoming more defensive by the minute.

"Why didn't you call me?" He stresses and unknowingly makes me lose my composure.

"Because I didn't fucking want to talk!" I shout and throw my hands up and scrub my face. _Stupid stupid! _Why did I step foot in this car to begin with? Why couldn't I just keep to my bloody self and put an end to this before it's become too much? I'll mark him as I've done with many before.

"Hey..." He reaches out and takes one of my hands in his right one. The contact settles my nerves a bit. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm sorry."

I don't need to look into his eyes to know that he's being honest. It makes me feel even worse for my outburst. I shrug it off.

"Nothing I didn't earn myself." I mutter and look out the window once again. This conversation is starting to get on my nerves and we haven't even started to speak about what's going on. Do I even _want _to start this conversation? It can only go two ways, anyway. Either he gets pissed off at me or he takes the blame on himself. I don't like either option.

"We're here."

Cuisine Sauvage is small, much smaller than I dared to imagine, full of people enjoying their Sunday brunch with their significant other or family. With my hand in Christian's, we follow our waitress to a more private table, next to the floor to ceiling windows that look out the water. The water helps me calm down from my adrenaline rush and a small smile finds its way on my lips.

"I've not been here for a while. We don't get a choice—they cook whatever they've caught or gathered." Christian says, a smile in his voice as he looks through the menu. "Two glasses of the pinot grigio." he orders absently and my eyes fly to the waitress.

"Actually, could you please get back to us in 5 minutes while we discuss what to order?"

The blonde's eyes, who up until now had been ogling Christian without any sense of decency, fly to mine and a deep blush settles on her cheeks.

"Of course." She murmurs and departs shortly.

"Do you want to order something else? The pinot grigio here is a decent wine. It will go well with the meal, whatever we get."

"I shouldn't have alcohol. Meds and booze don't mix too well." Needless to say, I'm watching his reactions like a hawk.

"You're on medication? Why?"

"I've taken Will up on his offer to try again." I say, locking eyes with him. His eyes widen in understanding.

"Oh..."

The waitress comes around with impeccable timing and we both order sparkling water, then stare at each other in complete silence as the world keeps on spinning around us. Christian seems at a loss of words. _This is a first._

"I've decided to take this step once again after my conversation with William. And after..." I pause, unsure on my approach.

"After what?" Christian asks, probing further into my head.

"After last Sunday." I say softly, gauging his reaction. Upon hearing my words, Christian sits a bit straighter in his chair.

"What about last Sunday?"

"I... um..." I say, struggling to find a way to make this seem less creepy than it would. "I saw someone in your room." I say slowly, making sure each word is accounted for. Repeating myself would make me lose my courage. "I saw her when you went to fetch me some tea and painkillers." I whisper, waiting for him to get up and call me crazy. Christian, however, remains glued to his seat.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His pained voice and concerned attitude makes me look away.

"I don't know if it was real."

There. I've said it. The sentence that sits at the root of my avoidance, of my fear of speaking to him, afraid that I would end up blurting it out in the middle of a conversation.

The waitress diverts us, putting down two soup bowls full of greenery. "Nettle soup," she announces, and struts back into the kitchen. We glance at each other, then back at the soup. A quick taste informs us both that it's delicious. I'm thankful for the reprieve even though it will not last long.

Ten minutes is all I get before Christian starts speaking.

"It was real."

I almost choke on my last spoonful of soup. _W__hat? I had not imagined that?_

"Some broke into the penthouse. I've changed all access codes and installed extra surveillance."

"Do you know who it was?"

"A former submissive."

The blood in my veins runs cold. That pale skin, those wide brown eyes, so dull and_ empty._ She was my exact replica, sans the eye color. How could I not see it?

_You were too out of it to know your own name, that's why. _My subconscious quips. _At least you know you're not _that _far gone._

"So... now that we've got that out of the way, why are you avoiding me, Anastasia?"

_Now that we've got that out of the way? _What are we discussing here? The weather or his personal well being? I bristle at his relaxed attitude but decide to keep my opinion to myself. _For now._

"I've been busy with a project and I haven't felt the need for human company." I reply with a shrug as the waitress comes and takes our bowls away, clearing the table for the main course and returning shortly with the main entrée: venison. Christian takes a long sip of his water.

"I see. Will you be busy next week also?"

"Yes. I am branching out in the Seattle business world in an effort to do something with my time and energy."

"Oh, right. How could I forget? You've acquired SIP."

I resist the urge to laugh out loud. _Of course he would know! _How come I'm not surprised?

"How did you come across that particular information?" I ask, unable to hide the amusement from my voice.

"I was the competitor." He replies flatly and makes eye contact.

"Nice to know I've beaten the competition." I reply with a smile.

He shakes his head and chuckles silently.

"_Nice? _You were lucky everyone thinks of me as a shark out to destroy everything. Roach decided that the pretty deer was a much safer option. But he doesn't know what I know, does he? He's just sold his company to the heiress of Clayton International and I happen to know for a fact that you've had your hands in a few merger pies._"_

My eyes narrow.

"What can I say? Guilty as charged." I reply with yet another shrug.

"Will it be part of Clayton?"

"No. This is my own venture."

He nods slowly, looking pleased by my answer, and raises his water glass for a toast.

"To succeeding in burying our fucked-up pasts."

_Amen to that._

**.**

**Your thoughts? I'd love to read them ;)  
**

**'Till next time, everyone!**


	18. Chapter 18

**After many months of writing this, here it is!**

**Enjoy!**

.

Ch. 18

Monday comes barreling in like a train - a fast and derailed train - colliding into me at full speed. Once again, I find myself staring at my reflection in SIP's elevator. Another black dress, another pair of black pumps, another prep-talk to keep me focused and calm. Same story.

I've slept like crap and it shows. The nightmares have returned as the medicine is making itself at home in my subconscious. Even though William has advised me about the coming weeks, it's still hard to adapt to it. This feeling of nothing is unnerving. The memories have come back with a vengeance but my emotions have not. It's unsettling to watch it as though it's happening to someone else and not me.

_You're watching it through a glass wall, Anastasia. It's fragile._

"You should talk to William about this." Luke says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And tell him what? That at the first sign of struggle, I give up?" I find myself answering, my words bitter and painful to utter. "I must see this through." I whisper, more to myself than to Luke.

He merely nods in understanding but his look says otherwise. He's watching me, like a psychiatrist watches his suicidal patient as he holds a blade too close to his wrists.

The receptionist, Claire, watches the steps we take in her direction with a bit more interest than what is normal. Call me paranoid but something is going on and something in the back of my mind is telling me that Jack Hyde has something to do with this. Then again, after reading his report, no one could ever blame me.

"Good morning, Claire."

"Good morning, Miss Steele." She replies with an awkward smile and looks anywhere except at me.

"Has Mr. Roach arrived yet?"

"Yes, Miss Steele. He expects you in his office."

"Thank you." I say with a smile, doing my best to stop her from fidgeting and throwing nervous side glances to Luke.

_Something is going on._

One look in Luke's direction and I know he's thinking the same thing.

"They know about the takeover." Luke says, his voice barely above a whisper.

_What?! _

My steps almost falter.

"That's impossible. The only people who know are you, Roach, myself and... Hyde." _Crap!_ Suddenly, it's not so impossible. "I thought you were keeping an eye on him." I hiss and throw Claire a side glance. She's staring at us, fear more than evident in her eyes.

_Crap!_

"Yes. I _am _keeping an eye on his activities on the SIP server. Not on his _personal _network."

I have to admit, this small detail is making me question my desire to get this company. If the owner can't keep his employees in line, God only knows what's hiding underneath. I've never thought of myself as a quitter. No matter what, I've always pushed and pushed until I got what I wanted. But now... suddenly, all I want is to get out of this building and put it all behind me.

_Is this what you really want, Anastasia? Or is it just a distraction?_

Above everything, I wanted this to work. I've spent one week of pouring over summaries, reports and everything else in between. I don't regret a moment spent but I do regret not being tougher, stricter.

_Like Christian?_

"I'm backing out." I hear myself say and wait to see Luke's eyes boring into mine in the elevator's reflection.

"The transaction isn't supposed to be done in another week." He replies as though he hasn't heard a word I've said.

"Is that an encouragement?" I press, demanding an answer and not a rhetorical dialogue. His high horse attitude is starting to get on my nerves! Everything I do has to get his approval. Everything I say has to be well thought or else William is going to find out and then I'll have to have a session with him where he can pick my brain apart. And it's all because Luke can't seem to mind his own business!

_He's only watching out for you, Anastasia! Stop acting like a spoiled brat!_

"Do you want it to be?"

Before I have the chance to get my emotions under control and think through my answer, the doors slide open and Mr. Roach is on the other side, looking uncomfortable and slightly upset.

"Miss Steele, please follow me."

A mixture of emotions settles in the pit of my stomach. Would it be wrong to quit? How would Roach react? How would Stephen react? How would _Christian _react?

_Does it even matter, Anastasia? You're already doubting yourself. It's a sign._

"You have a security breach. The entire company, right down to your receptionist, knows about the change." Luke says while I continue to think about the implications of my decision. Was I even ready to make this step or did I jump head first just to get away from the demons inside me?

I'm transported into one of my first sessions with William, his voice filling the emptiness in my head.

"_It's important that we find the right outlet for all the emotions you have inside."_

"_Going back to school to get my degree isn't a proper outlet?" I ask, unsure of the direction of this conversation. I am making progress, can't he see that? I need to feel normal, I need to have a purpose._

"_Your only purpose is to dig deep and find yourself."_

"_What if I don't want to dig? It's buried there for a reason." The fear in my voice is loud and overwhelming._

"_Let's entertain that idea, shall we? Let's imagine you not digging through everything that has covered you these past few years. How would that feel? What would be your direction?"_

"_My direction?"_

"_Your purpose. Where would you go? What will you do when you can't even tell the difference between the you that you know and the you that everyone else knows?"_

"_I'll find a way, I'm sure."_

"_Okay. Show me your vision." The doubt in his voice makes me grit my teeth._

"_I don't know yet but it doesn't matter. I've done it before and I'm going to do it again just fine."_

_Even I know that I sound like a sulking teen._

"_Anastasia, there's a difference between being determined and being stubborn. Right now, I don't think you're determined. I think you're trying to convince yourself that it's going to be all right. If that were the case, I'd be all up for it. After all, I'm here to make it all better. But I don't look convinced, do I?"_

I'm not convinced either.

Roach pales before our eyes, his gaze shifting between Luke and myself, as though he can't believe what he's hearing. I remain silent as I watch him struggle to find a good answer. An answer that can keep me from backing out of this deal before it can see the light of day.

"Why did you insist on giving the company to someone who promised, _in writing_, not to tear it apart when you can't even hold it together, Mr. Roach?"

I almost don't recognize the calm voice that belongs to me.

"I didn't..."

"Don't take me for a fool sir." I hiss, cutting off whatever pitiful excuse he had up his sleeve. "I made a commitment to take this company a month from now and come my second day, I find myself in quicksand. I don't appreciate your attitude. You knew I could back off any day and yet, you chose to turn a blind eye. Maybe a deal with Christian Grey would be more suitable for this company, God only knows it needs a firm hand." I say with disgust as I think back to Jack Hyde. That man is a walking lawsuit waiting to happen.

"You want out?" Roach whispers, almost not believing my words.

I almost don't believe it myself but the more I think about it, the more it seems to be the best decision.

"I'm not even in. And judging by the chaos here, it's a good thing."

I hear the door close behind Luke but I keep my eyes trained on Mr. Roach. We're both standing, analyzing the other one, trying to make sure no one's bluffing.

"I don't appreciate being taken for a fool. If I need to build this company from the ground, what's to stop me from making my _own _company, without having your employees as a heavy weight? You're bound to go down anyway." I say with a shrug as I take a seat in the chair opposite of his desk. "You've wasted both of our time, Mr. Roach. But I suppose I'm partially to blame for it as well. I wanted to prove I could get your company but I should have looked closer to check if it was worth _getting_."

My words don't please him but he settles for a few moments of silence.

"You're going back on your word, Miss Steele." Roach says accusatory.

"I wouldn't have to do it if you would have been honest with me, Mr. Roach." I bite back and arch an eyebrow just as Luke makes his presence known once again. "Well, this is my queue, Mr. Roach. I wish you the best of luck with finding a new buyer." I say as I rise from my seat and don't bother to shake his hand. He looks shaken enough.

.

Two days have passed. Two days during which I've spoken to Christian almost non-stop. He's away to New York to oversee the takeover of yet another multi-million dollar company while I'm stuck here with nothing better to do than read and analyze and re-analyze my each step. Oh,and I've avoided Kate like the plague only to agree to a lunch today. She's persistent, I'll give her that much. It's no wonder even Christian caved and allowed her to interview him.

Two days of feeling like an emotional zombie. Dreams and memories and nightmares and emotions mix and swirl through my head, making it very hard to focus and keep track of my thoughts. And when I'm not asleep or doing just about everything within my power to stay focused on _anything, _I have the mental focus of a gold fish. I constantly feel the need to splash cold water on my face to wake myself from this state. Only it doesn't work. I still feel groggy and sleepy.

_A week of treatment._

I stuff my face into my pillow and scream.

_Why does it have to be this hard to get myself back? Why does it always have to boil down to what I lose vs. what I gain? _

The anger that flows into my veins is a welcomed change from the emptiness that's made itself at home in my bones. Though I try to hide it and play the brave card, the memories and feelings that are surfacing are hard to handle. I've had them once and ran away from them only to have them shoved into my face because of the meds. I'm aware that I could only run so much before it all caught up with me but I didn't expect it to be so intense one moment and so empty the next.

I feel like clawing at my skin but I'm afraid of what lurks beneath it.

_They are still here. _My subconscious whispers.

_I know. I can feel them._

I blindly search for my phone and a smile settles on my lips when I see his latest text.

_**Good morning, Anastasia.**_

It's simple and short and exactly what I need to get me out of bed with a skip in my steps. As I type a reply, however, my smile slowly fades. I imagine him slowly getting back on top of his world, thinking that I could be by his side to support him and give him the strength he is going to need in the months ahead. However, I am the opposite. I am the dead weight that will always pull him back. I've done this before, with Nick. I've done it before with Sam. I've done it before with everyone who was a part of my life.

_**Good morning, Christian.**_

Everyone around me keeps on giving and I only keep on taking. I suck the life and joy out of them until I have to save them from myself by leaving as far away as possible. It has always been this way and I can't see how that will change when nothing has changed within me. The only thing that has changed is the fact that I am more detached from the world around me. I sometimes get the feeling that I'm only watching someone else's life play before my eyes because everything feels out of my reach.

I try my best to put the smile back on my lips as I get out of bed and make my way to yet another day that's waiting outside my door.

As soon as I step foot into the kitchen, Nathalie greets me and busies herself with making breakfast for both of us as I set the table, grab the apple juice from the refrigerator and pour us a glass. There is no need to say anything as we both do our best to avoid the pink elephant in the room.

"How did you sleep, Mademoiselle?"

Okay, so maybe I'm the only one doing the avoidance.

"Comme ci, comme ça." I whisper as I look out the window.

The weather is really nice and it makes me feel a bit better. Not enough to make a real difference but at least it's something. Something is better than nothing.

After breakfast, the need to go swimming wins and before I know it, I'm in the pool, swimming until I can't feel my arms and legs anymore. I lost count of the number of laps but it doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that finally, I was able to feel something other than mental exhaustion, even if I traded that with physical exhaustion.

_It's a nice change._

.

I'm staring at my reflection, dressed in an elegant chiffon dress featuring a vintage bateau neck. It has 3/4 length sleeves that hide the track marks but the sexy deep v cut bare back gives it the edge it needs. I pair it with a pair of nude cutout suede sandals and a nude skinny belt. Since it's the middle of the day, I only apply a bit of blush, a coat of mascara and some tinted lip balm.

_Time to face the music, Steele._

As I am in somewhat of a hurry, I grab my bag and wave to Nathalie who watches me make my way to the garage where the Mini Cooper is parked. Without Luke in the house, she's the only one here to watch my every move and make sure nothing bad happens. It's suffocating and annoying but there's nothing I can really do about it. Even though it bothers me to no end that there's always someone to keep an eye out for me, I can't stop but think back to that moment when Luke's presence stopped me from...

_Stop it, Anastasia! Everything is different now. You've learned from that!_

The engine purrs to life and the music starts playing _No limit _by Vitaa as soon as I turn the engine on. The sudden noise snaps me out of my memories and they drift away like fine sand in the wind. It's like waking up from a dream while its traces still linger on your skin. You try to reach it but it's always just outside of your reach.

A frown appears on my face. No doubt, Luke has been feeling a bit home sick and I've been of no help on that front.

_Not that you've been of any help ever since he got here._

I do my best to shut that voice and focus on the road in front of me but it's not long before I'm back to that place, thinking about the last weeks and everything that has happened. To be honest, North and South have switched places in my internal compass. Everything is turned upside down. The pills I'm taking are supposed to make my life easier, not make me angsty and not in control of my own emotions. Not that it makes any real difference than my life pre-Christian, to be honest. I've kept everything bottled and now it's blowing up in my face. It was a long time coming, looming over me like a dark cloud while I was doing my best to ignore it.

But it's started raining now and I can't push it away anymore.

It's not Christian's fault, no matter what anyone else might think. Sure, I was doing good in my simple life, dealing with school, volunteering at the local animal shelter and trying to keep the demons away. I was doing more than good, I was on a smooth path to victory over many fears and demons. But we all know life's not that way. There have to be bumps on the road because that's the only way to test real strength. Apparently, my strength didn't pass the test.

I'm back to square one but at least this time I know I can get up and try again. I've done it before and it's been as challenging as it could get. This round, I'll know better. This time, I'll know how to focus, what to tell myself, what to think and how to act. And this time, I'll have Christian by my side.

_As your friend. _My subconscious can't stop herself from pointing it out. _That's what you've asked of him and that's exactly what he's doing. But that's not what you _really _want, is it? You want him to break through your walls, you want him _to want _to break through your walls. You want him to challenge you._

But isn't that what friends do?

_Friends don't want to have sex with you, Anastasia. You've seen the look in his eyes. That hungry, I-want-to-devour-you look that makes you weak in the knees._

She's right. Then again, it's not like she could be wrong. She's me and I've noticed these things; his subtle touches, the way his eyes light up when he looks at me, his undivided attention even when I say the most stupid things I can come up with. I've noticed them all. But I don't feel ready for that.

_It's too soon._

Yes, it's too soon and too intense and this is a dangerous combination.

But I crave him on a level I've never felt before. He knows this and yet, he's waiting for me to make the first step towards him... towards _us._ There's no point in denying it, I'm taking my sweet time. I'm checking everything, making sure that we're okay, that we continue to be okay and build thins thing between us on a solid foundation. Unfortunately, I'm not in the place where I can build anything and the thought of him fighting for me when I know he's also fighting for himself to get out of the dark place he's been in for such a long time.

I've been in that place. The place I'm currently residing isn't much of an improvement and that was all the warning I needed. A relationship in this state or anything closer to this won't end well.

_Been there, done that._

True.

.

"Hey there, girlfriend!" Kate says as she bounces up to me. Her hug is a little on the too tight side but I hug her back just as fiercely. Hugs are the best and Kate's hugs are _la crème de la crème._

"Hi Katie!" I whisper into her hair and take a moment to really _feel _her hug. It feels good, warming me up from the inside out, dulling a bit the effect of the drugs.

We take a seat at the table and the waiter wastes no time in taking our order. Once that's out of the way, Kate's looking at me like the cat that ate the cream. I suppress an eye-roll and poke my tongue at her. I believe, deep down, she can always tell when I'm on the edge and drags me away from it.

_Just like Sam, Anastasia._

"Cut the crap, Steele. We both know you're just _dying _to tell me how it's going with Mr. Money-bags. I can see it on your face."

Kate's teasing brings a smile on my lips. It's small but it's there. These past few days – weeks – very few things managed to do that.

_I used to smile a lot. Where did that go?_

Maybe it was gone the day I realized nothing was ever going to be the same. Maybe t was the day I finally understood that the scars, both inside and outside, were there to stay.

"Clearly you need glasses." I reply and raise an eyebrow, challenging. Kate raises to the challenge, of course.

"All I _really _needed was to look through some magazines. You're all over the place, Steele."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised but I'm not so..." I trail off and shrug. There isn't much to say anyway.

The itch to look at the photos is there but I reign it in. I know what they usually say. I could probably write half of those articles from memory. There was a time when I used to read each one, checking if everything looked good enough in case my mother happened across any of them. Funny how unimportant that feels now.

I'm a bit disappointed though. I thought Luke would want to show me, talk to me and set some new rules in place. That would be a sign that he cares, that he's still here, busy being my guardian angel. He hasn't, though.

_That's because you're always leaving the house with him in tow._

"I have to say, the photo outside the airport is my favorite."

I frown.

"Oh... you haven't seen it?"

I shake my head _no. _The words are stuck in my throat.

"I think I still have it around here... somewhere." Kate says as she's rummaging through her bag, oblivious to the fact that I've probably gone deathly pale. "Here it is!" She says, the voice of a victor, all smiles and pointing at the photo.

I stare at the page.

The first photo looks to good to be... _spontaneous._ It looks as though it's the result of hours upon hours of careful planning. The way he looks down at me. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes. The smile threatening to escape. The frown.

The second photo was taken as his fingers found their way under my jaw, making me look up at him. His look is guarded and my eyes are shielded by the sunglasses but the emotion is bursting from the frame. It feels so intimate and warm. I lightly touch the photo. Am I the only one that can see this?

Our food arrives and Kate puts away the glossy magazine before I'm able to read the title or look at anything else other than that second photo. _Who is that girl? And why can't I find her when he's not around?_

"So, how was the Bahamas? You made it sound like a funeral when I came to pick you up." I say as I take a bite out of my food.

"It was fun."

Her voice suggests otherwise.

"Please, tone down the enthusiasm!" I say with an eye roll.

"Yeah, yeah... it was just so... lonely. My parents were in their own world, Ethan was chasing whatever girl happened to cross his way... I don't know. Something was missing."

The far away look in her eyes tugs at something inside me. I know that look, mostly because I've seen it in pictures and reflections here and there.

"Why do I get the feeling that _someone _was missing? Did Elliot grow on you so fast?"

"It might seem weird and fast and whatever, but he has. He has this perspective of the world around him that brings so much color. He always makes me smile, even when I'm sad or down. But anyway, enough about me. Did you have any fun while I was away soaking up the sun?"

"Tons." I reply with an eye-roll as I think back to the roller coaster that the few weeks of my life have been. I decide to go all out and take it from there. "I've barely had time to take a breath and release it in peace. Everyone's fretting around me like an ant army. It's driving me up the damn walls." I say as a heavy sigh eaves my lungs. I feel as though I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders even though I know I'm not.

"Hey." Kate prompts me and I raise my gaze from the table cloth and offer her my undivided attention. "It'll get better. I'm here now. So is Christian, right?"

Upon hearing his name, I sigh once again. Of course, Kate is quick to catch on to my slip.

"Uh oh. Something tells me you have something to share with me."

I really don't know what to tell her anyway. There isn't much to say anyway. That's probably part of the problem. Looking from the outside, nothing has been going on between us. We make little progress only to retrace our steps many times afterwards. It doesn't feel as though we're making much of a difference. It only feels as though we're going round in circles.

_You know that's not true. You know more about him than anyone else. He's let you in while you're still keeping him out. It's eating away at you, Anastasia._

"I don't know, Kate. I'm all over the place and none of us is in a good place right now. Yes, the attraction is there. Sparks, butterflies, shivers and secret smiles. All of that. But then there's the doubt, the darkness, the fear, the past..." I trail off, unsure of what exactly I want to say. Do I want to say we have no future? Do I want to say we'll fight for a future?

How does one get out of this?

"Does he know? About Paul?" Kate says, whispering the last part as though shes afraid saying it out loud would make it more real than it already is. I trace the edges of my scars with a wistful look.

"No."

"Do you plan on telling him anytime soon?"

"Yes. No. I don't know... why are we even discussing this?" I say as the waiter brings us another non-alcoholic drink.

"You seemed pretty cozy at the airport." Kate says with a shrug. I eye her with caution. Upon seeing my look, she throws her hands in the air. "I was just being my nosy self, OK? Never mind me."

"Yeah, never mind..." I say, trailing off as all kinds of thoughts start to plague me. One question remains: _How will Christian react when he finds out?_


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi, everyone!**

**I know I've been all over the place, not posting for months on end but I hope it won't happen again. Please accept my apologies.**

**Depression is basically the main plot of this story. It ****has also been a very close and personal "friend" of mine for the better part of my teenage years. I'd like to think I'm free of it now but sometimes, I still feel it's tentacles reaching out from the dark corners. Only now, it's easier to focus on the light, easier to forgive my own flaws. For all of you who are dealing with it, always keep in mind that you are not alone.**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this and, as always, I'd love to read your thoughts on the chapter!**

.

Ch. 19

Pour the water, put a spoonful of dried herbs to float on the liquid surface, stare at the steam that rises as you pour the content into your waiting cup. Take a careful sip and put the cup down quickly as the liquid burns down your throat.

Do it all again, every day, five minutes before you have to take your pills. The pills that numb everything and open your mind to all the things you've fought so hard to keep at bay. The pills that drown the voices in your head and make your bones feel like the liquid in your cup. The same pills that make you feel as though you're floating, that nothing can touch or hurt you. But the demons are still there and they can always hurt.

It's all relative. It can't really touch you because in order to do that, you'd have to feel.

You know it's all in vain. The pain, the hurt, the hatred, the demons that can't seem to let you escape their clutches. It's all there, piling up on top of you while the drugs shield your eyes. It's all fake. Nothing is real anymore. I've forgotten when it began. It scares me but at the same time, I can't find it within me to gather my strength and fight it.

There is no more strength, only numbness.

_Careful, Anastasia._

I shut her up. She's always in my head, always finding a way to slither in through the cracks. It's frustrating and familiar at the same time. This part of me that won't back down no matter what is probably the only part of myself that I've kept after all my battles. No matter what I lost in my war against myself, she's always stuck around, always making sure she was a constant in my head.

I hate her.

_No, you don't._

The cup lands forcefully on the saucer.

"Mademoiselle?"

Natalie's voice cuts through the fog like a knife through butter. My eyes snap to hers. Blue to green. Confused to determined.

"Yes?"

My voice seems foreign even to my own ears. Scratchy and unused. I clear my throat awkwardly and put a smile on my face. I'm sure it doesn't reach my eyes. I'm sure she can tell but we both keep silent and keep playing this game.

"Mr. Grey is here."

_Depression_. Such an ugly word, hissing through one's teeth. It's supposed to stand for the loss of strength and power but oddly enough, you need both of those things to simply utter the word. It's consuming and so powerful, sucking the life out of you and demanding even more when there's nothing left to give. It keeps on wanting, keeps on taking until there's nothing left of you, not even a shell of the person you were before.

I've always fought it with anything I could get my hands on, putting whoever was available between me and the vast emptiness, buying time I knew was never mine to begin with. But it was always there, like a disease resistant to drugs.

_And it's here again._

I raise from my seat and gather my tulle midi skirt, suddenly feeling a bit shy. It's not my usual _go-to _style but I felt like changing something that was within my control so I went for the complete opposite to what I'd usually wear: a mix between childish, feminine and Gothic. The skirt is definitely childish, falling to my knees in soft waves, like the fragile sea foam while the top is feminine and dark at the same time, the crochet around my neck toning the contrast between the black of my top and the washed pink of the skirt. My make-up is, once again, light. I do opt for a black eyeliner to highlight my eyes and give my look bit more edge but keep everything else rather tame. A high pony tail and a pair of studded cutout leather sandals complete my look.

_Without your armor. And without Luke._

Whatever.

"You look lovely, Mademoiselle. Have fun."

.

_"I want to go to the show."_

_There's no room for debate and I'm sure he can sense from the tone of my voice that I'm serious. His sigh is an indication of that but instead of fighting me, the brief silence tells me I've won._

_"I thought you never wanted to see him again." He says, his voice a bit low and demanding but I can only tell that because I've expected it._

_"I thought so too but I've changed my mind in the meantime."_

_My reply is almost instantaneous but his isn't. He's staling._

"_What made you change your mind?"_

_I huff, my frustration getting the better of me before I have the chance to push it back where it came from._

_"Are you coming or not?" The question spills from my mouth before I have time to calm down and think this through. He's right, of course. The last thing I need is to shove myself face first into yet another failure but I can't seem to keep myself away. Morbid curiosity and all that._

_Silence._

_"I can always-" I begin, wanting to let him know he still has a back door out of this arrangement. I could go with Kate and Elliot and I swear I wouldn't hold it against him. I do miss him, though. These days of not seeing him have only made my longing settle deeper into my bones._

_"Of course I'm coming." He replies, effectively cutting me off and making me roll my eyes. If only he could see me._

_"You're worse than a woman sometimes, I swear." _

_There's no mistaking the smile in my voice and I'm sure he can feel the fondness lingering in the air between us._

_He chuckles but wisely keeps his mouth shut._

_"When are you coming back?"_

_"I'm on my way to Escala as we speak. I'll see you at 5 PM, okay?"_

_"Okay. See you then, Christian."_

_._

The three hours between our conversation until the time he knocks at my door stretch like an open highway through the desert, under the ever present Sun, with no shade or water in sight.

I'm torn between loathing and loving the clothes I'm wearing. To be honest, I'm torn about going at all. It would do me good, though. The too many hours spent in this house are starting to show. That and these drugs I keep swallowing like a dutiful patient. It's starting to get on my nerves.

I peek at my reflection in the mirror as I make my way from the kitchen towards the living room. I don't look different but I do _feel _different, as though I'm looking at the world around me through a glass wall.

_Glass is fragile, Anastasia._

As always, Christian is a vision and I can't keep my eyes away from him. My insides warm and my stomach becomes the lair of butterflies as his eyes sweep across each inch of my skin, missing nothing and making sure I see that.

I blush and duck my head.

His smell fills my lungs and makes me lightheaded. I can see his shoes and pants and feel his affection in the air between us. My fingers itch to touch him, to _feel _him.

"Hello, Anastasia."

His breath washes over me and I bite my lip and do my best to keep the goose bumps at bay.

I risk a peek at him through my lashes and his smile makes an appearance.

"Hi."

_Don't you sound love struck?_

"You look lovely."

I duck my head again, like a nervous schoolgirl receiving praise in a very long time.

"Thank you. You look dashing yourself, Mr. Grey." I reply with a smirk and catch his eye again just as he ducks his head lower. My smirk is wiped off instantly and I draw in a shaky breath, his cologne filling my head and blurring all remaining lines between us.

"Say the word and I'll stop." His whisper against my lips almost make my knees buckle.

I don't say anything, leaning towards him as a sign to keep going. Another kiss from him has been the only thing that's been occupying my mind ever since I've seen him in my living room again.

Once again, his kiss takes my breath away. It's the perfect mix between soft and demanding, his hands finding their way on my waist. The skin on skin contact makes me moan, the sound low and guttural in the back of my throat. It only makes Christian hold onto me even tighter, drawing me even more into his arms.

Eventually, as much as I don't want to, I lightly push him away. I need air and a moment to get control over my body. I feel as though an electric current has brought my back to life and my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest.

Christian only smirks and looks down at my swollen lips.

"We're going to be late." I whisper as I look into his stormy gray eyes.

My words seem to snap him out of his daydream. He nods tightly and leads the way to the entrance, all the whole keeping a firm hand around my waist, making sure we still touch, one way or another.

The first few minutes of our ride together are filled with silence. My thoughts are all over the place while my lips burn. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder if he's as awestruck as I am. I wonder how on Earth he can focus on driving this car when all I can think about is that kiss that still lingers on my skin.

_Friends don't kiss like that, Anastasia. And friends definitely don't allow kisses like that to happen._

"Penny for your thoughts?"

His voice wraps itself around me, as I look down at my hands, studying my wrists.

"Friends don't greet each other like that."

my words hang in the air between us, filling the car and waiting for a reaction. I'm confused. I'm attracted to him, there's no point in denying that. At the same time, though, I know I've been this path before and it only ended with Nick's shattered heart and my walls at an all time high.

"Anastasia, I don't know if you've noticed until now but we're not _friends._" The way his lips wrap around the word, you'd think it's the vilest thing that he's ever uttered. "I'm attracted to you on so many levels I'm having a hard time keeping up and I'm sure _friends _doesn't cover what's been growing between us for these past few weeks."

_Growing on a lie. _My subconscious whispers, her voice floating inside my skull like a cloud. I almost say it out loud.

"You don't know me." I whisper, afraid of saying it out loud. Once it's out there, it will be a reality. I can't take it back once I say it. He'll know and he'll be disgusted by me.

_It wasn't your fault, Anastasia._

"That's your choice, not mine."

For a moment, I catch a glimpse of the hurt in his voice before he straightens and draws in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." I murmur and turn my head away, afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes or his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. We started on the wrong foot and I'm the only one to blame for that. It was clear as day that you weren't ready for anything but I bulldozed my way through your walls and dumped 24 years' worth of pain on your shoulders. And that was after you found out the dirty little secret from my closet because Elena saw fit to go in a melé with you. I don't blame you for wanting space. But I'm a selfish man, Anastasia. More so than many others."

"You're not the only one." I whisper and release a heavy sigh.

_I have to tell him._

"I want to know you, Anastasia. I want nothing more than to find out everything there is to know about you. I want to know how to bring that beautiful smile on your face everyday, to make you feel protected and cared for, to know that I'll always be by your side. Always. No questions asked. Just like you did, when I needed you the most without even knowing it. Just... give me a chance."

The lump in my throat is bigger with each word he utters.

"Anyway, now is not the time nor the place to have this conversation. Tell me about the opening. Is he going to be there?"

_Whoa! Talk about a 180 degrees turn!_

Unwillingly, my head snaps left and I'm met for a brief second with a detached look but smoldering eyes. I've never known someone with such expressive eyes.

"Of course he's going to be there, Christian. It's the opening of his show." I say slowly, a bit on edge.

"I didn't know you kept in contact with him after that fiasco in the parking lot."

"Look, Christian. What happened in that parking lot is in the past. You of all people should appreciate my willingness to offer second chances."

"It's not the same thing. I didn't force myself on you." He says through gritted teeth as his knuckles turn white once again.

_Touché!_

"He was drunk." I reply meekly.

"Damn right he was! That doesn't mean he should have done what he did."

"I agree with you. But I will not hold that over his head without at least talking about it with him. We've avoided each other and, to be honest, I don't like it. I don't like leaving things hanging when I have the opportunity to clear the air."

God knows how many unresolved matters I've left in the UK and they're haunting me without missing any opportunity. There's no need to keep adding to the list.

"Please, promise me you won't cause a scene."

It takes him a few minutes before he nods his head yes.

_Jésus!_

.

We are in a converted warehouse—brick walls, dark wood floors, white ceilings, and white pipe work. It's airy and modern, and there are several people wandering across the gallery floor, sipping wine and admiring José's work. For a moment, my troubles melt away as I grasp that José has realized his dream. _Way to go, José! _A smile finds its way on my lips as I look at the people around me, all of them here to see his work, the fruit of so much passion and hard work.

"Good evening and welcome to José Rodriguez's show." A young woman dressed in black with very short brown hair, bright red lipstick, and large hooped earrings greets us. She glances briefly at me and smiles even wider.

"Oh, it's you, Ana. We'll want your take on all this, too." Grinning, she hands me a brochure and directs me to a table laden with drinks and snacks.

_How does she know my name?_

I don't have too much time to ponder this because José comes barreling through a throng of people.

"Ana!"

He's dressed in a suit and I have to say, this is the first time I've seen him in something that's remotely _sophisticated. _He's always the jeans and T-shirt type of bloke and it's a bit odd to see him like this. His look is weary, no doubt thinking about the way we've left things. Well, that makes two of us. He holds his hands and I step into his embrace a beat later. No matter what has happened, he's been there for me without even knowing how much his presence has helped me.

"Ana, I'm so glad you made it. And I'm so sorry. Please believe me." He whispers in my ear, then pauses and abruptly holds me at arm's length, staring at me.

"What?" I ask, a bit self conscious under his gaze.

"Are you okay? You look, well, _weird_. Dios mio, have you lost weight?"

I blink back my tears and nod my head with a weak smile. "I'm fine. I'm happy for you, José. Congratulations on the show." My voice wavers as I see his concern etched on his oh-so-familiar face, but I push the remains of those feelings aside and do my best to focus on the here and now. I put my arms behind my back, though.

_He hasn't seen the scars yet but he will, Anastasia. Why are you hiding?_

"Thank you. Though I have to say, you're the star here."

"How did you get here?" He asks, an edge to his voice that's hard to place.

"Christian brought me," I say, suddenly apprehensive.

"Oh." José's face falls and he releases me. "Where is he?" His expression darkens.

"Over there, fetching drinks." I nod in Christian's direction and see he's exchanging pleasantries with someone waiting in line. Christian glances up when I look his way and our eyes lock. And in that brief moment, I'm paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at me with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into me, and we're lost for a moment staring at each other.

What is is about this man that draws me in so much, to the point where everything around me is just white noise?

"Ana!" José distracts me, and I'm dragged back to the here and now. "I am so glad you came—listen, I should warn you—"

Suddenly, Miss Very Short Hair and Red Lipstick cuts him off. "José, the journalist from the Portland Printz is here to see you. Come on." She gives me a polite smile.

"How cool is this? The fame." He grins, and I smile back, unsure. "Catch you later, Ana." He says and I watch him stroll over to a young woman standing by a tall lanky photographer. I can't help the bitter taste in my mouth. Photographers and I don't really get along.

José's photographs are everywhere, and in some cases, blown up onto huge canvases. There are both monochromes and colors. There's an ethereal beauty to many of the landscapes. In one taken out near the lake at Vancouver, it's early evening and pink clouds are reflected in the stillness of the water. Briefly, I'm transported by the tranquility and the peace. It's stunning.

"Elliot called. Apparently, Katherine is feeling a little under the weather. Something about a party last night... so it's just us."

"I see."

_How fitting that I end-up here only with Christian and no buffer for his temper!_

We wander past a few more prints, and I notice a couple nodding at me, smiling broadly as if they know me. I'm idly wondering if that is the case or if it's because of Christian. There are a few people who ogle my scars and track marks, a few people who ogle me and a few more who ogle both of us. It's starting to give me the creeps but all that stops when we turn the corner and I can see why I've been getting strange looks.

Hanging on the far wall are seven huge portraits — of _me_.

I stare blankly at them, stupefied, the blood draining from my face. Me: lost in thought, a small smile on my lips, frowning, one eye visible and the other hidden behind a palm, my leather cuffs in close-up, a far away look in my eyes as I gaze away from the camera.

All in super close up, all in black and white.

_Holy crap! _

I remember José messing with the camera on a couple of occasions when he was visiting and when I'd been out with him as driver and photographer's assistant. He took snapshots, or so I thought. Not these invasive candids. He never said anything about showing those photos to the world. Hell, I didn't even know he _kept _them!

_This is almost as bad as the other pictures._

"Hey! You're the muse. These photographs are terrific." A young man with a shock of bright blond hair startles me. I can feel Christian's body tense behind me, his fingers locking with mine and squeezing almost to the point of pain.

I drag my gaze away from the young man and scan the room for José. He's talking to a group of young women like the star he always wanted to be. The girls are hanging on his every word, looking starstruck and in awe. I can't believe he would do something like this without even letting me know. _How could he? _He invited me and put me on the spot, made me just stare at myself and do what? Hug him and tell him that it's all bloody awesome!? Tell him how wonderfully brilliant he is at breaking my trust the second time around?

_My God! _

Tears pool in my eyes and I'm doing my best to stop myself from blinking. I want to run and never. I want to grip my hair and scream. I want to walk up to him and sucker punch him. I want to -

"Did you know about these pictures?"

Christian's voice stops my trail of thought and makes my head turn towards him. Upon seeing the look on my face, his jaw tenses.

"Motherfucker." He says it so low and so deliberate that the hairs on the back of my neck rise. "Wait here."

I watch him stalk off towards the young woman in the black dress with a determined pace while I remain glued to the floor, to this very spot while I feel like a fish out of water. There's this ringing in the back of head that I can't seem to shake off.

_You need to speak with José._

As soon as the thought registers, my feet move on their own accord, my target not too far, chatting with the girls. In the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder if he did this on purpose. Maybe he knew who I was all along and this was his ticket to fame and an exposure he wouldn't achieve unless it was linked to my name. Oh, he's going to have exposure, all right. _For all the wrong reasons._

One of them gasps as I approach, no doubt recognizing me from the portraits.

"José."

My voice is oddly calm, the kind of calm before all hell breaks loose. But José doesn't know this. He's basking in the short glory while I'm stating to question everything that's tied to him.

"Ana. Excuse me, girls." José grins at them and I watch him, all smooth, impressing the ladies.

"You look mad," he says and I can't help the sinister laugh that escapes past my lips.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I growl and his smile vanishes in the blink of an eye. "You took pictures of me without my consent, you put them in your show without my consent, you plan to sell them without my consent and only just now you realize I'm not _happy_? What's _wrong _with you?" By the end of my monologue, his face is ashen and he's looking anywhere except at me. "I want them gone. Right now!"

"What? No. I can't just take them off, Ana."

"You _can't? _How about you can't put them on the bloody wall without _my permission? _Didn't your agent advise you regarding this _tiny _aspect?" I hiss, the anger flowing through my veins and making me feel more alive than I've felt in days.

"It doesn't matter. I've bought them all, including the film and any back-up material." Christian says and puts a casual arm around my waist.

José's eyes narrow.

"I would have given them to her anyway. I just put them up for the show."

"Without her knowledge." Christian growls and his grip tightens.

"Thank God you came here, then! The knight in shiny armor here to save the day." he sneers, throwing Christian a dirty look.

_Now there's a face of José we haven't seen before._ My subconscious says and tips her chin in his direction.

I can't believe my ears. Here he is, in the wrong, and all he does is attack Christian for snapping into action and taking charge of the situation. If Luke were here, he'd be impressed.

_If Luke were here, José would be soiling his fancy pants._

"Enough! I can't believe you would do this. I can't believe, after everything I've gone through, you'd go behind my back and do such a thing!" I hiss, keeping my voice low in order to avoid a scandal. People are starting to notice anyway. The last thing I need is a scandal about pictures being published without my permission. I've dodged the bullet the first time but this second time would be a total disaster. "I want these pictures at my house first thing tomorrow. Or else, you're going to have a rather unpleasant a discussion with my lawyer. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Let's go, Anastasia." Christian whispers in my hair and I lean into his embrace. The adrenaline from my veins is slowly starting to wear off and I don't think it would be wise to be in the public eye when it's fully gone from my system.

"Please." I say, my voice a note over a whisper.

He pulls me through the crowd and the last thing I see is the young girl in the black dress frowning at my retreating form.

"I don't think it's safe to drive you all the way back to Seattle. We're staying at the Heathman, OK?"

I nod my agreement from my seat on his left and do my best to keep myself under control.

_Just a bit more, Anastasia. _My subconscious coaches me, her voice soothing and unnaturally caring. Even she's scared of the aftermath of this adventure. This blow to my trust seems to be the cherry on top of everything I've gone through and as soon as we step into the suite, I start crying my hear out until there's nothing left and blackness makes me fall into Christian's arms.

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**Sooo... what do you guys think?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi, guys!**

**Sorry for posting this so late but real life got in the way once again. I'm not too late, am I?**

**I just want to thank you for all your lovely feedback and sharing your opinions on this. It's a very personal and... liberating chapter for me. I've been where she is right now and there's nothing worse than the guilt and the helplessness that takes over when you least expect it. I'm not going to lie, this was probably the hardest chapter to write.**

**I promise that things will look up from here. No more heavy stuff. **

**To my fellow** _guest _**who just felt the need to let me know this story is horrible and regretted the time spent reading it, my apologies. It's your right to look for something better to read and it's my right not to accept your comment. What I don't understand is why you would waste some _more _energy just to let me know you hated it. Just a thought...**

**I look forward to reading your opinion on this. It really does matter to me, even though I don't get to reply to your comments.**

**Thank you!**

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Chapter 20

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm in this bed. Hmm… my eyes open but the dream, though fuzzy and foreign, still clings to the edge of my memory. For a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where I am. The headboard behind me is in the shape of a massive sun. It's oddly familiar. The room is large and airy and plushly furnished in browns and golds and beige. I have seen it before. Where? My befuddled brain struggles through its recent visual memories.

_Holy crap. _I'm in the Heathman hotel… in a suite. I'm here because Christian didn't want to risk going back to Seattle after yesterday's fiasco. I'm here because I bloody lost it last night and nothing could get me to calm down.

Biting back a groan and willing the tears away, I stare at the ceiling. Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. Once again, my trust has been placed in the wrong person and the following sting isn't easy to dismiss.

I trusted José. I trusted him to be a friend and not go behind my back and do something like this. He was like a brother to me.

_He was a replacement for Paul and these are the consequences. _My subconscious hisses, her voice loud and clear inside my skull.

A fresh round of tears try to escape but I do my best and keep everything inside. I've cried last night enough to last until my next session with Will and it's not even helping anymore. The emotions pour out of me and only leave a vast emptiness instead. Frustrated by the train of thoughts inside my head, I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and my pills. Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything. I sit up and take the tablets, all the while trying to get these mean thoughts out of my head.

There's a light knock on the door and Christian opens it, slowly making his way at the foot of the bed, all the while keeping a close eye on me. I offer him a timid smile and go back to playing with my fingers just to occupy my mind. I idly wonder what he made of last night.

"Good morning Anastasia. How are you feeling?"

I peek up at him through my lashes and do my best to keep the eye contact.

"Better." I whisper and stare into his eyes.

_They have so much warmth in them._

Christian nods and places a large shopping bag on a chair. It takes me a moment to realize I'm not wearing the clothes from the night before and my cheeks burn. _He's seen me naked. _Upon seeing the question in my eyes, he offers me a sheepish look as he rubs the back of his neck.

"I had changed you into a t-shirt that Taylor had around and sent him to pick you a few things. I figured you won't want to be in the same clothes as yesterday."

_Oh... how thoughtful of him. _My subconscious whispers, a sarcastic bite to her voice. _He took off your clothes without your permission and maybe he feels bad about it! _

I do my best to keep my anger in check. Christian's not to blame for the fact that I was unable to take care of myself last night and I shouldn't take it out on him. He would never do anything without my permission.

_Really? Is that because he's into BDSM and cares so much about your consent?_

"Shut up." I whisper and rub my eyes. My subconscious is in full attack mode and I'm too exhausted to deal with it.

The demons grin.

"Sorry... what did you say?"

I glance at Christian and find him staring at me oddly.

_Think fast, Anastasia! You don't want him to know just how screwed you _really _are._

"Thank you." My voice shakes and my eyes fall once again on my hands, sitting limply in my lap. My cheeks burn at the thought that Taylor probably had to buy me lingerie. Then again, if Luke would be here and not all the way to London, he'd do the same thing.

_After chocking José, that is. _My subconscious adds with a smirk. _Just wait 'till he gets back... if he doesn't know already. _

"You're welcome."

The honesty in his voice makes my lips curve into a timid smile. This man really is one of a kind, in spite of all his flaws and denial.

_Are you looking for similarities, Anastasia? Because I can't see any. He doesn't let people walk all over him, unlike you!_

"Can we sit in bed for a bit longer, please?"

Even I don't miss the edge to my voice. His brows furrow but he crawls in bed none the less, no questions asked. His body warmth and kind eyes melt away at the edge of my fears and drowns the voice of my subconscious. I take his hand and play with the tips of his fingers. An electrical current runs through me and I close my eyes, basking in the feeling of completeness I have when I'm next to him.

"I would like to apologize for last night." I whisper as I continue to play with his fingers.

"Hey," his fingers find their way underneath my chin, lifting my ace so I can stare once again into his gray orbs. "It wasn't your fault. If I hadn't promised you that I wouldn't cause a scene, I would have punched the fucker without a second thought, no matter how much of a field day the media would have had." The passion behind his words is loud and clear for anyone to hear.

"I find that hard to believe. If my issues wouldn't have existed, last night wouldn't have been such a bust. It was our first real date and I totally blew it..." I start to say but he puts one finger on my lips and I'm immediately silenced.

"It wasn't a _total bust. _I have those really good photos of you. Did I tell you just how beautiful you are in each one of them? Your eyes, your lips, your smile, your spirit..."

His eyes burn a trail on my skin and when his lips touch mine, everything else is just a noise that I can easily ignore. There's a deep burning inside me, igniting each inch of my body with a will to live like nothing else could. I want this flawed and imperfect man in any way that I can get him. I can only hope he feels the same once he learns about my past.

The urge to crawl inside him and own him lights up my body. I shouldn't feel this way about him. I shouldn't be going down this path when I've said I wouldn't go.

_Then why are you in a bed with him, Anastasia? You know where this is going to lead..._

"Thank you for being here, Christian. It really means a lot to me."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." His reply is almost instantaneous and it makes my heart skip a beat. "I want to be here, Anastasia. No one could keep me away." There's a fire in his eyes that I had yet to see and it tugs at something deep within me.

It's also a sign that we need to have a very odd and draining conversation. I have to tell him before it gets too deep. I have to be honest, for his sake.

"I need to tell you something." I breathe and watch for any signs that he wouldn't want to talk. He opens his mouth to protest but I put a finger on his lips, shutting them back up and smile at him.

"We need to have this conversation. You need to know and only after you've heard everything... if you still have the strength to look me in the eye..."

"What? Baby, you're scaring me."

A fresh round of tears pool into my eyes but I wipe them away. My jaw clenches. I've had enough of tears.

"You've shared your deepest and darkest demons with me. It's something that took great responsibility on my side and a lot of trust on your side. I want you to know. I need you to know."

"Okay. I'm listening."

I look at him for a moment. I'm about to dig bodies buried under a year's worth of therapy and it'll take a lot of energy. To be honest, I don't even know how much energy I can put out in the Universe without replenishing it inside.

_Here goes nothing..._

"Ever since my mother got her hands on Stephen's fortune, she paid me no mind whatsoever. Her place as a mother was only for show. In her place, Martha, the head-maid, took the reins. Physically, she was only few years older than my mother. Emotionally, she was light-years more wiser."

I stop and take a few moments to center myself. That period would seem like a happy one to any outsider but I know better.

"I've always been a shy child, no matter how many people were surrounding me, trying to get me out of my shell. Very few of those around me have managed to see beyond the awkward girl that always stood on the side, as far away from the spotlight as possible. One of those people was my step-brother, Paul. He was the other child of the family and knew how it was to have all eyes on him. We clicked and he became the big brother I could have ever hoped for."

Christian squeezes my hand, taking note of the sadness coating my words as I think back to that period of my life. I squeeze back and gather the strength to tell the only person I'll probably ever tell, excluding William.

"My brother was not perfect. My brother had demons and insecurities that ate at him. I could see it in his eyes but my presence in his life always brought a smile on his lips. He was my moon in the darkest of nights and I was his sun, pushing away the heavy clouds. Together, nothing could tear us down."

A lone tear slides down my face, tingling as it goes lower and lower, until it falls on the borrowed t-shit I have on. I watch as the gray turns a deeper shade because of the moisture and muster up the strength to continue.

"I made two close friendships while in boarding school: Nick and Sam. We were thick as thieves." I say as I think back to my early childhood with Nicholas and Samantha. We were the three musketeers. "Paul started drifting away from me and there was nothing I could do to get back what we had. He started avoiding both Stephen and I. By the time I started college, we barely spoke. I tried, I tried _so hard _to get him to talk to me, to get him to open up and let me in. Nothing worked, though...

"Then, one day, I came home to surprise Stephen and I caught the end of his conversation with Paul. Stephen was threatening to cut him off if he didn't agree to go to rehab. He was an addict, shooting heroin almost each day. It knocked the air from my lungs." I whisper as I think back to that day. One moment was all it took to feel the ground shaking underneath my feet. I couldn't believe my ears so I charged in the room and started to hit Paul with all the frustration I had gathered in all the years he strayed away from me. It didn't make a difference in the end, though.

"He promised he would get better. Promised he would get himself back. It was all a lie." I hiss, the words still as bitter as the memories.

"He is the person who took me." I whisper but my words register instantly.

Christian sucks in a deep breath and hisses a low _fuck. _He squeezes my hand to the point of pain but I know I have to get this out, in spite of the huge lump in my throat and the demons staring at me.

"He came to my dorm, drugged me and took me to one of Stephen's many holiday mansions. We stayed there for almost three months without anyone knowing.

"He said it's because he loved me and wanted us to be together. He was so high, so delusional..." I trail off, remembering the crazy look in Paul's eyes. "He hurt me, first with words, then with drugs and fists, slowly chipping away at my sanity until all that was left of me was hate and pain. When that happened and he realized we could never get past that wall... he blew his brains, right in front of me." I whisper the last part as I think back to that moment, Christian's touch grounding me in this moment and preventing me to lose myself in that memory.

He's the second person I've told this and I haven't given him all the gory details.

_You haven't given William all the gory details either. _My subconscious reminds me with a raised eyebrow and a bitch face.

Christian's breathing is labored and his eyes are clenched shut. I can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. I'm looking at him like one would stare at a ticking bomb, too late to try and dismantle it.

"Christian?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid of his reaction.

Is this the moment when he decides he doesn't need me in his life, bringing more baggage than I'm worth?

"Does Stephen know?"

His voice is eerily quiet and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing.

"Yes, he knows." I whisper and close my eyes as a new tear in my heart appears. Poor Stephen and all he went through those months and continues to go through because of me.

"Son of a bitch!" Christian roars as he jumps as though my touch burned him. I watch shocked as he paces the room, gripping his hair and probably pulling to the point of pain.

_He got it all wrong! _My subconscious screams at me and I rise on my knees on the bed and try to reach him without getting exposing my lower body since I'm definitely only wearing panties. Crap! I should have kept my mouth shut. Panic spreads through each cell in my body, triggering the fight or flight response.

"Just stop and listen to me, please." I plead, wanting nothing more than to just see him calm and in control.

He stops dead in his tracks and stares at me with hollow eyes.

"He knows his son did _that_ to you," Christian says as he gestures to my arms and wrists, "and you're defending him? Jesus fucking Christ! And here Flynn is, telling me about bonding with the wrong person when here you are, doing the exact same thing!"

His words hit me like a dagger. All breath leaves my lungs.

"His fucking son did this to you and he kept his mouth shut about it! He refused to tell the police what happened and swept it all under a big and expensive rug! How _convenient!_" He spits as he looks out the window while I'm glued to my spot, unable to form a coherent thought.

Eventually I do snap out of my stupor and get out of bed, modesty be damned!

"You're wrong." I say and watch as he releases his hair from his grip and turns to look at me. "It was me who wanted to keep everything under wraps. It was me who suggested we don't tell anyone. It was _me _who decided to keep silent." I say and jab a finger in my chest with each _me _that escapes my lips. "Do you know why? I did it because I couldn't look him in the eye when I know his _son _took his life before of my eyes, because of _me. _I made his son kill himself and for that, I deserved whatever punishment he saw fit."

his face transforms from pure anger to pure astonishment.

"What!?"

"Stephen is supporting me, buying me everything I could ever need, hiring the best doctors to mend me back. He's always done that and I... I couldn't even save his son." I whisper as a sob escapes past the lump in my throat. "I failed him and here he is, paying people to get me out of the black hole I've dug for myself."

Christian's mouth is hanging open but I continue my tirade in spite of the tears that are slowly starting to blur my vision.

"Because that's what I've always done, Christian. I've killed someone. I've taken parts of those around me that they can never get back. I've dragged them all into the mud and up to the edge of the cliff. That's all I've ever done my whole life. I'm a burden! For Samantha, who was always there to get me away from the abyss. For Nicholas who fell in love with me only to see me end up a soul sucking monster just like my mother. For Stephen, who only wanted to see me succeed in life. And what have I ever given them back in return except for pain and sorrow? Nothing!"

"Hey, hey - " Christian says as he tries to reach for me but I take a few steps back, shaking my head _no._

"Can't you see? I'll only end up doing the same thing to you! God is my witness, I don't want to do it but it always ends up like that. Each and every time. One has to wonder what is _wrong _with me? That's why you have to stay away and let this go. I want to be good for you, Christian. I really do. You have no idea how much I want that. But I know... I know it's only a matter of time before it starts going downhill. Actually, who am I kidding?" I say as my bitter laugh fills the room. "I've only gone downhill for almost a month now. And it's only going to get worse! You don't deserve that. You don't deserve the emptiness and the anger that are eating away at me. You deserve so much better... so much better than me..." I whisper and rub at my eyes to look at him.

He looks... _devastated._

_See what you've done, Anastasia? You're doing it again and again, stuck in an endless circle._

"Anastasia... you're not the person to blame here." He whispers softly as he reaches towards me, trying to get me into his arms.

I shake my head and take a few steps back once again.

"No. "

"No what?" Christian asks as he cocks his head, studying me. "You don't think I have enough presence of mind to choose what's good for me or not?"

My bitter laugh makes its appearance once again, echoing in the large room.

"We're two fucked-up people, Christian. Our track record isn't exactly what one would call a good example. But you're trying and you're getting better. While I... I'm just becoming myself with each day that passes."

"And what are you becoming?"

"I'm starting to reflect the blackness that's inside me." I reply, my words hanging between us like thick smoke.

"Anastasia... just listen to yourself speak. You've done me so much good, you've challenged me to look beyond what had been dangling in front of my eyes for so long. How can you overlook everything good that has happened ever since you've entered my life?"

"Everything _good? _I've dragged you into my shit with each step you've taken in my direction. What's good about that?"

He shakes his head.

"Please, just... calm down and listen to yourself."

"Listen to myself?" I scoff. "Have _you _been listening to me?"

"Yeah, I have. All I heard about is how you're justifying each of Clayton's actions and taking the blame for everything that's happened."

I run to the en-suite bathroom and lock the door behind me as fast as I can. The urge to run and hide is too great and very hard to control.

_Good job, Anastasia! You've finally let the truth out. _My subconscious claps, her voice so mean and cold I have to suppress a shiver.

I sit on the cold tile and wrap my hands around my knees. My head hurts, my eyes feel like sand has been poured into them and my throat is sore.

A few minutes pass before I gather myself from the floor and splash some cold water on my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and brace my palms on each side of the sink, looking at myself and not recognizing the face staring back at me. Her eyes are hollow and her skin is deathly pale, dark shadows and bags underneath showing exactly what darkness lurks inside. I can almost see it around me, wrapping me in its cloak.

What's happening to me?


End file.
